It Had To Be You
by inmyeyes
Summary: R/T : Future fic. When we least want it, and least expect it, we find love. But once we find it, the difficult thing is to hold onto it. [In Progress]
1. It's A Dog-Eat-Dog World

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters from Gilmore Girls; they belong to WB and Amy Sherman-Palladino. I'm just borrowing them for a little while. However, the original characters that appear in the story belong to me. Some of the names (of places and people) I use in the story are from Ayn Rand's "The Fountainhead" (which is a fabulous book). However, they are merely names and do not reflect the characters in Rand's book; I'm using those names because I like them. :) No copyright infringement is intended. 

**Author's note on STR:** Thank you for all the great reviews. :D Just so you know, I will _not_ be writing a sequel to it. It's a closed book; I'm not gonna torture those two anymore in a sequel. Instead, I've decided to torture their adult selves in this story. Heh. ****

Author's note: I couldn't stay away; my fingers were itching to type. So here I am, with a new story. This one's a future fic; so, if the characters seem a little off-character, there'll usually be an explanation for it. Until the explanation comes, just go with it. Heh.  
I know nothing about architecture or the New York Times so I'll be taking liberties and a lot of it will be fiction. I'll try to be as accurate as I can but sometimes, there's not much useful information online. The same goes for New York; I haven't been there so all I know comes in the form of travel guides and stuff I can find out online. Updates to this story may not be that frequent but I will try my best. :D   
As always, feedback is welcome and very much appreciated. Enjoy the story! :D   
  
  
  
  


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* * * * *  
It Had To Be You  
by inmyeyes   
01 : It's a Dog-Eat-Dog World  
  
  


**

Rory Gilmore let out a loud screech of frustration. Pulling off the spectacles that were perched on her nose, she sighed deeply as her fingers lightly massaged her temples. Usually, she thrived under pressure; the looming deadlines were an incentive for her to push harder, forcing her to do the best she could do under the time constraint. Afterwards, she would revel in the sense of victory and accomplishment that ran rampant through her blood. 

As she placed her glasses back on, the silence around her suddenly grew thicker as her mind finally registered how late it was. A quick glance at the clock on her desk affirmed her suspicions; it was already 2 in the morning. Her eyes moved to the blinking cursor on her computer screen which seemed to be taunting her. Quickly, she skimmed through the words she had written and hit 'Save' before logging off. She gathered all her material, stuffed it into her messenger bag and grabbed the now-empty thermos, that had been full of coffee, sitting on her desk before shuffling away. 

Two minutes later, the office was drenched in darkness. 

* * * * * 

With the tv remote control by her side, a cup of coffee on the table in front of her and her cat on her lap, Rory settled comfortably on the couch. The moment she had entered her apartment, she threw off her heels and wiggled out of her crinkled pants and blouse, opting instead for her well-worn flannel pajamas which had pink elephants on it. As she made herself a tuna sandwich, she saw the blinking light on her answering machine but chose to ignore it, knowing that it would either be her mother, her grandmother or her editor... or worse, all three. So she feigned ignorance, easing her guilty conscience by telling herself that she would check in with her family tomorrow. No, she corrected herself, later today. 

She lightly stroked the soft fur of her cat, a white Persian named Jimmy, as she idly flipped channels. When she encountered nothing but info-mercials, she switched off the tv and reached for the remote of her stereo system. Seconds later, the soothing sounds of Jewel filled the room as Rory mouthed the lyrics in time to the song. Smiling sleepily, she closed her eyes. 

Moments later, she was asleep. 

* * * * * 

The knock on the door stirred him from the paperwork that was laid out haphazardly on his desk. Running his fingers through his hair in frustration, he tugged at the striped tie around his neck before calling out, "Come in." 

The blonde head of his secretary, Erica Waltman, peeked in. "Mr DuGrey?" 

"What is it, Erica?" he asked, leaning back against his leather-upholstered chair. 

"Mr Chase would like to see you." 

Tristan bit back a groan. "Did he say why?" 

"No, but he did say that it's important." 

He nodded briskly. "All right." 

When the door clicked shut behind Erica, he grabbed his jacket that was strewn over the back of his chair and left. 

* * * * * 

She hated being late; it always threw her off her schedule which she always meticulously planned; every detail was computed into her palm pilot that she considered her lifeline. It was already 8.15am and she had a meeting with her editor at 8. Tapping her foot impatiently, Rory eyed the blinking numbers on the wall, willing the elevator to move faster. But Lady Luck was not smiling on her; the elevator was full and stopped at nearly every floor to let out its passengers. 

When it finally arrived at the 28th floor, Rory pushed past everyone else and rushed out, not caring that she had stepped on some toes. As she pushed open the glass door that read 'New York Times' in big, bold letters, she slowed down to catch her breath. The morning sounds of the office that she had worked in ever since she graduated from Columbia hit her; the sound of typing, the sound of hurried footsteps and muffled yells... and someone calling her name. 

"Rory!" 

Her eyes searched for the owner of the voice and she finally registered the waving arms of her colleague and friend, Samantha Lee. 

"Rory," she said, hurriedly, "Edward's looking for you. You're supposed to be-" 

"I know, I know," Rory answered, nodding quickly. "I was supposed to meet him at 8. I overslept." 

Samantha gave her friend an assessing look, taking in the hastily-tied ponytail, the dark rims around Rory's eyes and her tired smile. "You stayed in late again, didn't you?" she asked, her tone accusing. 

Rory sighed. "Sam, you know I-" 

Samantha waved her hand dismissively. "Yeah yeah, I've heard it all before, Rory." She smiled to take the sting off her words. "Now," she pushed Rory lightly, "you better go see Edward before he blows an artery." 

Rolling her eyes, she picked up her folder before scurrying away. 

* * * * * 

"Why did you want to see me?" 

Nicholas Chase leaned forward in his chair, his eyes examining his friend's somewhat dishevelled appearance; the tousled hair, the tie that was askew, topped off the frown that threatened to turn into a scowl. 

"Did you have lunch?" 

He ignored the question just as he had ignored his hunger pangs earlier that afternoon. "Is this a social call, Nick?" Tristan asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Time is money. Tell me what you want." 

Nick let out an indolent grin. "You know, you shouldn't talk to your boss that way." 

Tristan tsked and smirked. "Well, maybe if I hadn't been witness to all the embarrassing moments in my boss' life, I wouldn't." 

Nick waved his hand dismissively. "Embarrassing moments? I don't-" 

Tristan's lips quirked into a grin. "Do you really need me to remind you of that time at Harry's when you said-" 

Nick quickly interrupted, not wanting to rehash what had happened. "Yeah yeah yeah. Okay," he admitted, "that was embarrassing." His self-conscious smile suddenly vanished and a somber light came into his eyes. "Tristan-" 

"I know, I know," he cut in. "I'm working too hard. Blah blah blah. I'm feeling perfectly fine, Nick." 

"When was the last time you actually went home before midnight?" Nick asked, trying to make his point. 

Tristan shrugged in response. "I just really want to get this contract, Nick. And I'm gonna do all I can to get it." 

"And we _will_ get the contract. We're the best architectural firm in the state, Tristan. And we've got you designing the building." 

Tristan laughed. "Trying to butter me up, Chase?" 

"As though your ego needs any soothing," Nick scoffed. "But really, the contract is in the bag. Ease up a little, DuGrey." 

"Nick-" he protested. 

"Tristan," he said, his voice firm. "Ease up. Or else I'll make you take a break." 

There was a few moments of silence as the two long-time friends eyed each other. Finally Tristan reluctantly nodded his agreement. "Okay, I'll ease up." 

* * * * * 

"What was the meeting with Ed about?" Samantha asked between mouthfuls of her spaghetti. 

Sighing, Rory took a sip of her iced lemon tea before speaking. "He approved the article." 

"Wow," Samantha smiled brightly. "That's great." She saw that her smile was not mirrored which surprised her since Rory had been so eager to write the story. "What's wrong?" 

"He wants me to take a break," Rory mumbled in a dull voice. 

"You lucky dog!" 

"Sam, I don't want a break. I don't need a break. I just want to finish this feature and keep on working." 

Samantha reached over, lightly patting her friend's hand. "Rory," she began, slowly, "You've been working non-stop for the past few months. You've been working all hours of the day and running yourself ragged." She gave an encouraging smile. "I think you deserve a break." 

"Sam-" 

"Rory," she protested, giving Rory a quelling look. "You need to slow down. Ever since-" 

Rory held her hand up and shook her head vehemently. "No, don't bring that up." 

Samantha sighed at the stubbornness that Rory was displaying. "Okay. I just think that-" 

"Sam, just don't." 

"At least think about it," Samantha said cajolingly. 

A few seconds of silence between them passed before Rory hesitantly gave in. "I'll think about it." 

* * * * * 

True to his word, Tristan left his office at 8pm that night. As he drove home, he briefly contemplated dropping by at Harry's, a bar that he frequented with Nick and a few of his other friends. He discarded the idea just as soon as it popped into his head, realizing that he wasn't in the mood for male-bonding or picking up girls or even drinking himself into a stupor. 

'_God, I'm getting boring,_' he mused, as he eased his Escalade in his allotted spot in the basement parking lot of his apartment building. 

When he entered his apartment minutes later, for a second, he almost wished that he had gone to Harry's. The desolate silence that enveloped his apartment, he refused to refer of it as "home" because he didn't think of it as such, was suffocating and eerie. 

Not bothering to turn on the lights, he made his way to the leather couch; stumbling and losing his footing a few times in the near darkness. As he comfortably situated himself, he blindly searched for the remote control of his stereo, desperately needing some noise to fill the deafening silence. When the relaxing sounds of Miles Davis emptied the room of the nothingness that had pervaded the air, he sighed in relief. 

Tristan closed his eyes; pulling off his tie completely and throwing it in the direction in which he had discarded his jacket earlier. Still not feeling completely at ease, he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it out of his pants. 

After a few minutes, Tristan gave in to his feeling of restlessness. Standing up, he pulled off his shirt and stretched luxuriously, groaning when he felt his muscles protest. He flicked on a light switch, illuminating the large room in bright light. Then he reached for his briefcase and took out the blueprints that he had been working at all day. 

He didn't fall asleep until 3 in the morning. 

* * * * * 

(A week later) 

"Rory!" 

Turning around at the sound of her name, she waited as Samantha caught up to her. "What is it?" 

As Samantha tried to catch her breath, she held up her left hand, bringing the day's issue of the newspaper to Rory's attention. She smiled, displaying the dimple in her left cheek, and said, "It's a great article." 

Rory smiled her thanks and took the paper from her friend's hand, her eyes scanning the page and finding her name at the byline. Inwardly, she was doing her happy dance, a weird mixture of the macarena, bouncing and pumping her fists in the air; even though she had been writing for so long, seeing her name in a byline never ceased to make her want to squeal with girlish happiness. 

"Is that the last one in the series?" Samantha asked, as the two moved aside so that people could pass the crowded hallway leading to the copy room. 

Rory shook her head. "No, there's one more. That one will be on the new children's hospital that's being built." 

"The Francon Pediatric Center?" 

"Yeah, that one." 

Samantha frowned. "I think the building was stopped." 

"What?" was Rory's cry of outrage. "I was just talking to Mr. Francon yesterday." 

Samantha flipped the pages of the paper until she found what she wanted. Pointing out the article to her friend, she answered, "Well, it seems like one of the investors pulled out the funding so the project is on hold." 

"But- but..." Rory sputtered, not believing her eyes. "That hospital needs to be built," she said firmly. "They'll be offering free treatment to the kids at the Wynand Orphanage. And-" 

Samantha laid a hand on Rory's shoulder and sighed. "I know, Rory. But there isn't anything we can do about it." She saw that determined , stubborn tilt of her friend's chin and knew that Rory was far from giving up. 

"Oh no, we _can_ do something." 

* * * * * 

The beeping sound made him look up. Without taking his eyes off the blueprints in front of him, he pressed the appropriate button and said distractedly, "Yes, Erica?" 

"Mr Roark is here to see you, sir. He's in Meeting Room 1 with his associates," came his secretary's voice over the intercom. 

"All right. I'll be right there." 

Giving the blueprints one last look, he concluded that this was the best that he could do. After rolling them up, he put them under his arm and strode to the door, ready to make his presentation. 

* * * * * 

"Rory," Edward Reynolds said wearily. "We can't do anything about it." 

Rory crossed her arms, a defiant look in her steely gaze. "Yes, we can. Edward, we can-" 

Edward shook his head, not willing to be swayed. "The Francon project is not our responsibility. With Mr Francon's connections, he'll easily enough find another investor." 

"Not when it's widely known that his business is floundering," Rory countered. "Their stocks fell again and they're in danger of a takeover by-" 

"Rory," Edward said, his tone unyielding. "It's not in our hands." 

"Edward," she replied, imitating her boss's tone. "That hospital needs to be built." 

He smiled wryly. "Even if we were to do anything Miss Gilmore, you would not be involved in it. As of now, you're officially on a one-week hiatus. A paid holiday, if you would." 

Rory's expression was fiercely dissenting. "You can't do that. I'm _not_ going on holiday." 

Edward stood up, turning his back on his star reporter. He looked down at the busy streets some twenty floors below, marvelling at the seemingly endless flow of people and vehicles. New York in December was cold, dreary and bleak and he was offering his one of his top reporters a break, a respite from all this but she was declining. 

He had been watching her closely over the past months; seeing her potential when she first came to work for the paper some two years ago, noticing her drive, determination and passion for her work and for life, slowly seeing the light in her eyes dim and watching her bury herself in her work. He knew that she would go far; with her talent and her exemplary work ethics, she was one of the best. But he didn't want her life to be her work; after over 20 years in the business, he knew the sacrifices of immersing oneself in work and pushing aside the things, and people, that really matter. He wouldn't let the bright young woman in front of him do that. 

Not turning around, he said, "I didn't say _if_ you're willing to go on leave. I'm saying you _will_ go on leave. Take a break, Rory. You've earned it." 

Her words of protest came fast. "Edward, I-" 

He turned around and sat back down on his chair, suddenly feeling the weariness of his 48 years of life. "Rory," he softened his tone a little, "I'll tell you now that you're one of the best. You know it, I know it. But at the rate you're working, you're gonna burn out." His eyes caught hers as he tried to persuade her. "Take a break. The Francon story will be here when you come back." 

The slump of Rory's shoulders was indication enough that she had given in. "I don't like it, Edward" she said, but she smiled slightly. 

"Go see your family, Gilmore," Edward laughed. He added warningly, "And I don't wanna hear from you until next week." 

Rory smiled. "Yes, sir." 

* * * * * 

The two friends held up their glasses in a toast. "Great job, DuGrey." 

Tristan smiled over the rim of his glass, enjoying the burn of the whisky as it slid down his throat. "Did you expect any less, Chase?" 

Nick leaned his hip against the side of his mahogany desk and grinned. "Of course not." 

"So, what's next?" Tristan asked casually as he poured himself another glass. "Who's our next client?" 

"The Toohey account." 

"The one for the office building?" When Nick nodded, he went on. "So, when should I start?" There was a pause and Tristan looked up from his drink to see an uncomfortable look on his friend's face. "What's wrong?" 

"Well... you see," Nick began, unsure on how to break the news to him. "You haven't been assigned to work on it." 

Tristan's shrug was nonchalant. "You're giving it to Bradley?" he asked, referring to one of the other architects working in the firm. 

"Don't you want to know why it wasn't assigned o you?" 

Something was definitely up, Tristan thought as he saw Nick tapping his fingers against his desk, a sure sign of his anxiety. "Okay, I'll bite: why wasn't I assigned to it?" 

"You're on leave for the next week," Nick said quickly, his words a jumble that Tristan couldn't catch. 

"What did you say?" 

Nick sighed. "It was decided that you'll be on leave for the next week. Since you're worked so hard on the Roark account." 

"Bullshit, Chase," Tristan spat out, easily seeing through his friend's half-truth. 

"That's part of the reason," Nick answered and paused, trying to phrase what he wanted to say correctly. "And the other half is that... I'm worried about you. I think you should take a little break. You know, regroup and then come back." 

"I'm perfectly grouped, Nick... I don't need any regrouping," he said, making quote marks as he uttered the last word. 

The office with glass windows that showed off the breath-taking Manhattan skyline was drenched in tension. "Your mother called me the other day." 

Tristan groaned as he plopped down on the leather couch in the room. He threw an arm up over his eyes and mumbled, "This whole take-a-break thing is about _that_?" 

"She worried about you." 

Tristan let out a short bark of laughter that was heavily tinged with bitterness. "You know better than to say something like that, Chase. She's not worried about _me_. She's worried about the DuGrey heir." 

Nick cast his friend a quick look and stifled a sigh when he saw his tensed form. "Whatever it is Tristan, you need a break." Hesitantly, he added, "And you should pay your family a visit." When he saw that Tristan was about to retort, he hastily said, "At least go back for Nat." 

Tristan drew his arm away and sat up, giving his friend a dirty look. "That's a low blow, even for you, Chase." 

Nick shrugged but Tristan saw the unrepentant curl of his lips. "Natalie doesn't deserve to be there alone, Tristan." 

After a few moments of consideration, he had to agree with Nick. "Fine." 

* * * * * 


	2. Que Sera Sera

A.N: I know that this seems AU, but honestly, it is _not_. It's just that a lot of things have happened, which you will find out as the story moves along. There's a reason for everything, trust me. How far along into the future does this take place? Give or take 10 years. I cannot express how amused I was that so many reviews mentioned Natalie and asked who she is. Hee! 

  


** * * * * ***

** It Had To Be You  
by inmyeyes  
02 : Que Sera Sera **

  
"_There are things we don't want to happen but have to accept, things we don't want to know but have to learn and people whom we can't live without but have to let go"._

The next seven days stretched out before him, seeming like an endless body of water in which he had to cross. There was no land in sight, and he wasn't at all sure if he would survive the journey. And if he did survive, would he be battered and bruised? Or would he turn out a better man? 

As he stared unseeing into the New York skyline- the glorious sunset bathing the city in splashes of orange and red and every other colour imaginable, the tall skyscrapers that reached for the heavens- he absently twirled the ring on his left hand, bringing back memories that he didn't wish to relive. 

It was an innocuous looking ring; a silver band without any designs or any markings that deemed it special. His grandfather had given it to him on his 12th birthday- or was it his 11th birthday?- but as a young, lively boy, he had been more interested in his other gifts; the Playstation, the trip to Disney World and the assortment of other gifts that had been a result of his party. It hasn't meant much to him then; of course, he had thanked his grandfather profusely and sat patiently next to him as the story behind the ring was passed onto him. Back then, he had the attention span of a flea and he hadn't absorbed anything of what his grandfather had said. Instead, once his grandfather was done, he had jumped up, dispensed a hug and then ran off to hook up his Playstation to his TV. 

The ring was soon forgotten, probably lost in the mess that resided in one of his drawers. It didn't cross his mind at all, until about 4 years later. He remembered that day clearly; he had been woken up late one night by a phone call from his grandmother, who frantically told him that his grandfather just had a heart attack and was to be admitted into hospital. As he pulled a shirt over his head, his eyes caught a glint of silver on his dresser. Amidst the neat row of toiletries and the photo frame with a shot of his grandfather and him that was now the right side up- the maid must have been cleaning, he concluded- lay that piece of jewellery that would come to mean a lot of him. Curious, he had picked up the ring, and somehow, instantly knew that it was the one that had been given to him by his grandfather. Without hesitating, he slid it onto the middle finger of his left hand, grabbed his keys and ran out of the house. 

His grandfather passed away not two weeks later, leaving him devastated. The two of them shared a bond that was so important to him since his own father didn't seem to care much for him. The presence of the ring on his finger- he had never taken it off since that day- served to remind him of the wonderful man whom his grandfather had been and of the love that had been shared between them. 

At the thought of his father, the ever powerful Stephen DuGrey, who wielded his influence over his son like a knight brandishes his sword, he smiled wryly. 

No one defied Stephen DuGrey; except his only son. When his father told him to sit, he'd stand. When he told him to come to dinner, Tristan would stay in his room. When Stephen forbade his son to do something, Tristan would do it- right in front of his father.

Tristan thrived on creating battles, especially after his grandfather's death and especially with his father. So, the long and drawn-out argument that was a result of Tristan's choice of major in college came as no surprise. 

Stephen wanted his son to follow in his footsteps. 

Tristan wanted to find his own niche. 

The battle of words and wit was audible beyond the thick walls of the study and left an even thicker and higher wall between father and son. 

Tristan won and… he didn't regret it. 

He majored in Architecture at Yale and went on to get a Masters degree from the School of Architecture. Upon graduation, he went on to work for one of the best firms in New York, Chase & Heyer, which was headed by a close friend, Nicholas Chase. With his natural talent and unwavering determination to succeed, he quickly moved up the ranks until he became head architect and one of the firm's most valued employees. 

For all intents and purposes, he had cut off all emotional ties with his family; returning to Hartford only when he absolutely had to and during the holidays. Natalie was the only reason why he didn't completely turn his back on his family.

Sighing, Tristan leaned his head against the cool glass of the window. 

* * * * *

Stars Hollow.

It used to be the only place she knew as home. The tree-lined streets, the gazebo at the centre of town, the shops that she knew like the back of her hand, the close-knit community and the wonderful coffee at Luke's. Once, she had known nothing but that town.

The moment she had stepped foot on the Harvard campus, the world as she used to know it ceased to exist. The road before her had widened, opening her eyes to the scary and unpredictable reality, which she came to realize was the real world. Her rose-coloured glasses had been shattered, changing her irrevocably.

For one thing, she had been forced out of her shell since she had come to Harvard without knowing anyone. At first, that feeling of self-consciousness followed her everywhere but as the days passed, she learnt to be comfortable on her own. In a way, she learnt how to be her own best friend. 

Her isolation didn't last long; after four days, her room mate finally arrived with, literally, a bang. She had been engrossed in her book- it was _Wuthering Heights_ if she remembered correctly- when there had been a loud knock on her door. Without taking her eyes off the small print on the dog-eared page, she had stumbled her way to the door. But whoever it was who was waiting wasn't very patient and opened the door. As she entered the room, she tripped over a stack of books on the floor and fell right at Rory's feet.

There was stunned silence for a few seconds before they both burst out laughing. The brunette got up, dusted herself off and introduced herself as Samantha Lee from Maine, grinning the entire time. Just like that, a friendship was born.

It was half-way into her freshman when she bumped into a familiar face.

Paris Gellar.

At first, she couldn't recognize the girl who had become a friend during their junior year at Chilton. Gone was the long, blonde hair. In its place was a shorter hairstyle. Coupled with her cheery smile, jeans and a deep red top, Paris looked like the average college student. Of course, as she later found out, Paris was far from average; she had a 4.0 GPA, was on the executive board of Harvard-Radcliffe Television, was an Associate Arts Editor for The Harvard Independent, volunteered regularly at a nearby orphanage and was planning on a double major in Government and Economics, one of the few students who were doing so.

She remembered Paris' smile brightening when she had called out her name. She remembered her surprise when Paris gave Rory a short hug and said how great it was to see her. Sure, Paris had mellowed out during their friendship and being around Rory and Lorelai had certainly loosened her up a little but the Paris she saw at Harvard was a lot more carefree, happy and… well, young. For once, Paris was acting like the 19 year-old she was instead of the 18-going-on-30 act that she had before.

During their years at Harvard, the three girls formed a strong bond based on intellect, quirkiness, their distaste for fraternity boys, an appreciation for Brad Pitt, shared laughter, joy and tears and lots and lots of coffee. Upon graduation, they vowed to keep in touch despite the different directions they were taking; Paris was staying at Harvard to do her graduate studies, the Columbia School of Journalism had accepted Rory and Samantha was taking a few months off before looking for a job. 

She made a mental note to let Paris know that she'd be in Stars Hollow; it had been a while since they had met. While she was at it, she also reminded herself to call Lane and tell her about her visit. She knew that her life-long friend had been planning to go home for Christmas which was barely two weeks away. Maybe she could come a little earlier and they could catch up…

The muffled sound of ringing reached her ears, interrupting her reverie. Rory stood still for a moment, wondering if she had imagined the sound. When she heard it again a few seconds later, she abandoned her packing, and her memories, and ran into the living room. Not surprisingly, the cordless phone was not on its stand. She stood in the middle of the room, ignoring the insistent noise as she tried to remember where she had stashed the phone. As she did so, the call was forwarded to her answering machine. 

A familiar, perky voice filled the room. "Hey Rory, it's me."

At the sound of her best friend's voice, Rory smiled. She quickly searched the sofa and when she didn't find it lodged between the cushions, she knelt down on the floor and looked beneath the sofa for the elusive phone. She noticed the white object near the back and slid her hand between the bottom of the couch and the hardwood floor to fish it out. 

"I guess you're not at home. I just-."

Quickly, she clicked it on. "Lane!"

A peal of laughter greeted her. "Let me guess? You couldn't find the phone."

"Shut up, Lane!" Rory retorted, sitting down on her couch with her feet curled under her. "I haven't spoken to you in so long and the first thing you do is make fun of me."

"It hasn't been that long," Lane protested. "It's only been about a week. Besides, poking fun at your expense has become a hobby of mine."

Rory snorted and rolled her eyes. "What did you want to tell me, anyways?"

"Well…"There was a pregnant pause before Lane squealed excitedly. "I'm engaged!"

Rory's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh my God!"

"I know!"

A thought just occurred to Rory. "Who's the lucky guy?"

"Jess."

Her jaw dropped open. "Jess? Jess Mariano? Jess, Luke's nephew? Bad-ass Jess?"

On the other end, Lane grinned at the incredulous tone of her friend's voice. "Yes, _that_ Jess."

"When were you planning on telling me that you guys are dating?" she demanded. "I can't believe you kept this from me!"

"I would have told you… eventually."

"Yeah. Just before the wedding invitations are sent out apparently," Rory retorted dryly. She shook her head, still unable to digest the information. "You and Jess… _wow_."

"I know. I didn't expect it either."

"You've got to tell me everything!"

"I will, I will," Lane promised. "Are you going back home?"

At the reminder of her week off, Rory sighed. "Yeah. My editor made me take a break. I'll driving back tomorrow."

"That's good. You've been working too hard."

"Lane!"

"Rory!" Lane copied her friend's dissenting tone. She knew Rory didn't want to talk about it so she changed the subject. "I'll be there the day after and we can catch up."

"I can't believe you didn't tell me," Rory repeated. "I feel cheated."

"Don't. You're the second to know," Lane clarified.

Rory arched her brow. "How did your mother take it?"

"Not too bad."

"_Not too bad_?" Rory repeated, unable to hide her disbelief. 

Lane laughed. "Well, there was a lot of screaming, she threatened to disown me if I didn't come to my senses and then she said a few insulting things about Jess. Not too bad. Once she cools down, I think she'll be fine."

"Are you sure?" Rory asked, concerned. 

"Sure about what?"

"Sure that your mom will be fine with this. Sure that you love him."

Lane didn't hesitate. "On both counts, yes."

"I'm really happy for you, Lane."

Lane laughed, the sound ringing with happiness. "I'm really happy for me too."

* * * * *   


He didn't hide his relief when William, their butler, informed him that his parents were away and wouldn't be back for another two days. As he took off his coat and stepped into the marble foyer of the house, he struggled not to let the chilling stiffness of his surroundings get to him. 

"Thank you, Will," he smiled warmly. "Is everyone here all right?"

The tall man who was dressed impeccably in a black suit smiled. "Everyone's fine, Tristan."

"Even Natalie?"

William's expression softened. "Even Natalie," he confirmed. "Why don't you get some rest? The drive over must have been tiring. I'll let you know when dinner is ready."

Smiling gratefully at the servant whom he had come to consider a friend, Tristan took the stairs two steps at a time. 

When he entered his room, he immediately headed for the bed and laid down. The three hour drive had worn him out mentally more than anything else. Being back in Hartford was always bittersweet for him; in some ways, he liked the familiarity and some of the memories that he had made as a boy. On the other hand, he had to deal with his parents, ex-Chiltonites and that feeling of being trapped by his name, his reputation and expectations.

He lay there for a few minutes, until that restlessness in him stirred again. Stifling a sigh, he sat up and wearily ran a hand through his hair. He reached for his bag and took out a black sketchbook. As he leaned back against the pillows, an image from his past took shape in his mind. Without a thought, he reached for a piece of charcoal and started drawing.

* * * * *   


Her first stop once she arrived at Stars Hollow was Luke's. Number one, she needed coffee and two, she wasn't quite ready to see her mother yet.

As she pushed the door open, causing the bell to jingle, she resisted the urge to bolt when she saw Lorelai standing at the counter, gesturing wildly to Luke. She let a smile escape as she heard the familiar sounds of her mother arguing with Luke over her excessive intake of coffee. '_Some things never change_,' she thought. 

"Can I get some coffee in here?" she called out. 

Lorelai stopped her tirade and turned around. "Rory!" she exclaimed.

"Hi Mom," Rory answered, smiling tentatively. Walking forward, she slowly reached out to hug her mother and noticed Lorelai's breath of relief at the affectionate gesture. 

"What are you doing here? You didn't tell me you were coming."

Rory sat down on a stool and accepted the cup of coffee that Luke brought her. "I'm on a forced vacation."

Lorelai laughed. "Only you would have a forced vacation. What happened?"

"Apparently, I was working too hard."

Lorelai's expression was one of mock surprise. "Wow, that's a shocker." There was a short, awkward pause as she searched for something to say. Finally, she said, "Well, I need to get back to the Inn." She was referring to the inn that she had set up with Sookie some four years ago. "It's been 15 minutes… Sookie could have burned it down by now," she joked, earning some weak laughter from Rory. "I'll see you at home?"

Rory nodded, trying to smile as brightly as she could. "Yeah, I'll see you at home."

Lorelai's smile widened. "Great."

As Rory watched her mother's departing figure, she desperately wished that the distance between them could be breached. She could never have imagined that things between them could change so much, but it did. All it took was a piece of paper. 

"She's been beating herself up over it," came the gruff voice from behind her. 

Rory swivelled the stool around and met Luke's concerned gaze. "She shouldn't have hid it from me," she said quietly. 

Luke didn't say anything for a few seconds. "I know. But it's in the past, Rory and it's not worth all the heartache that both of you are going through."

Rory gripped the edge of the counter tightly, trying to rein her anger. "It affected my whole life, Luke! How can I just be so forgiving? Because of that, I had doubts about my relationship with-" She broke off, shaking her head vehemently. "I can't just forget it, Luke."

"Rory-"

"Luke, I know you're trying to help. I know you mean well but for now, things can't go back to the way it used to be," she explained, her tone resigned. "Forgive and forget doesn't apply to this. Not yet."

Luke saw the weary expression in the eyes of the young woman whom he had come to think of as a daughter. He knew that he couldn't push the issue. "All right. But give her a little break, will you?"

Rory just smiled. 

* * * * * 

"Do you ever just sit down and relax?"

Tristan looked up from the sketch and smiled when he saw the girl leaning against the door frame. "Do you ever mind your own business?"

Sweet, tinkling laughter filled the room as the tall girl sauntered into the room and sat herself down on the bed next to him. "Not when it comes to you." She slung her arm around his shoulder and gave him a quick hug. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

Absent-mindedly, he rubbed his cheek, leaving a streak of charcoal. "I didn't know I was coming until yesterday," he explained, intently examining the drawing he had done. 

Natalie reached out and lightly rubbed off the streak that had marred his skin. Then she placed a light kiss on his cheek. "I'm glad you're here. I was getting a little bored all by myself."

Tristan looked up and met blue eyes that mirrored his own. "What happened to your lover boy? What was his name again?"

Natalie rolled her eyes. "His name is Glenn and we broke up."

"Who's your new flavour of the week?" he asked teasingly. 

Her response was a smirk. "I should be asking you that, my dear brother."  


"No new flavours. This ice-cream shop is closed."

"Paris was asking about you," she said casually. 

Tristan arched his brow in surprise. "Oh really?"

"I think she likes you," Natalie said in a stage whisper. 

"We're just friends, Nat. Don't get any ideas."

"Nope, no ideas." She grinned impishly. "I know you don't like her. You don't look at her the way you look at other women."

"You have no idea what you're talking about," was his off-handed response. 

"I may only be 16, Tristan, but I know that you don't see Paris in a sexual way."

"Please do not put Paris and the word sexual in the same sentence." Tristan said playfully, giving an exaggerated shudder.

Natalie rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean." Her eyes wandered to the sketchbook in her brother's hands and she marvelled at how lifelike and detailed the drawing was. "Who is she?" She saw the look on his face and knew that he was trying to make up an excuse. "Don't tell me that she's no one and that you drew this from your imagination or whatever."

Tristan sighed. "You're way too perceptive for your own good."

Natalie grinned unabashedly. "Thank you. Now tell me who the girl is."

His answer was purposely vague. "Just someone I knew."

"Tristan!" Natalie whined, tugging on his sleeve and intentionally annoying him. "Tell me!"

In his mind, the charcoal drawing before him came alive; the creamy, porcelain skin, the long, flowing dark brown hair, the electric blue eyes and soft, pink lips. A face that had become a memory which lingered at the back of his mind, emerging every once in a while and taunting him with all the 'what ifs'. 

"She was the one who got away," Tristan said, smiling wistfully.

Knowledge clouded Natalie's eyes and she peered interestedly at the drawing. "The PJ Harvey girl?" she asked, remembering the story that he had once told her. 

Tristan laughed lightly. "The PJ Harvey girl," he confirmed. His fingers idly traced his sketch. "Rory Gilmore."

* * * * *


	3. All That You Can't Leave Behind

A.N: The return of the Killer Headache forced me to go back on meds. Gah. So here I am, (still) doped up, with my offering of Part 3. I meant to write this sooner but Tristan and Rory wouldn't play nice… and now, they've sympathized and decided to get along. Hee! Also, before I forget, I'd like to thank **Juana for her fabulous idea about the Lorelai/Rory fight. Thank you so much! **

*** * * * *  
It Had To Be You  
by inmyeyes  
03 : All That You Can't Leave Behind**

As she stepped into her old house, a feeling of nostalgia overwhelmed her. She looked around, realizing that little had changed over the years. It felt like stepping back in time and if she closed her eyes, she could see her 17 year old self sitting on the worn sofa with her mother, a cup of coffee in hand and laughter filling the room as they talked. A wistful smile curled her lips. If only things could have remained that simple. 

She shook off that feeling of wanting to turn back time, silently berating herself for her foolishness. She knew better than anyone that things could change in the snap of her fingers and once the change had taken place, it could never be erased. That was one of the things she learnt since living on her own. 

Sighing, she settled herself on the sofa, curling her legs up and hugging a cushion to her chest. Exhaustion seemed to suddenly overtake her and she suddenly wished for times when life was so much simpler for her. 

She sat there for a few minutes, listening to the stillness of the living room before she reached for the phone with a loud groan. Surprisingly, the phone was on the stand. Leaning back into the cushions, she dialled a familiar number and waited for the other person to pick up. 

* * * * * 

  
"I still can't believe that you're on a break," Paris commented dryly. 

"It's not like it was voluntary, Paris," Rory retorted, taking sip of her latte. 

Paris went on, as though Rory hasn't said anything. "_I had trouble trying to convince you to go to London with me last year. You were all like 'But __Paris, I have things to do!" Paris rolled her eyes but her grin gave away the fact that she was only teasing. "And now you're actually on a break. I don't believe this."_

Rory gave her friend a dirty look over the rim of her cup. "Believe it. Besides, Ed basically said 'Go on this break_… or else…'." She shrugged. "And I don't care to find out what the 'or else' is." _

Paris swallowed her bite of her Oreo cheesecake before speaking. "I'm sure this messes up your entire schedule for the next week."

Rory groaned, the sound full of despair. She buried her face with her hands and shook her head desolately. "You will not believe how many things I had to cancel or postpone. My life is such a mess."

Paris couldn't help but snicker. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think that you're married to Fred."

Rory narrowed her eyes. "I'm _not married to Fred. I just… __need him. Besides," she paused, a wistful look entering her eyes, "I doubt I'll ever get married." _

Their eyes met; Paris saw the hurt and pain that still lingered in her friend's expressive blue eyes but knew better than to bring it up. Instead, she decided to keep things light. She grinned deviously. "I bet that you have Fred with you right now."

"I do _not," Rory swiftly protested but before she could react, Paris had already grabbed her bag and rummaged through it. _

"Aha!" Paris exclaimed triumphantly, holding up Rory's beloved Palm Pilot. "You're a horrible liar, Rory Gilmore."

Rory just rolled her eyes and crossed her arms in mock petulance. "Shut up, Paris."

* * * * *

  
  


The curtains were pushed to the side, letting in the bright beams of the sun's rays. The large room was instantly brightened and there was a loud groan as the body underneath the mountain of blankets burrowed deeper within his cocoon. In the dark confines beneath his comforter, Tristan strived to get back to his dreamless sleep, seeking the respite that he so needed. 

Yet his pleas went unheeded as seconds later, he let out a grunt when a body unceremoniously plopped down on him. He didn't bother saying anything but just pushed off the unwanted weight. But the task wasn't easy when a pair of hands retaliated and started tugging at the comforter that was safely protecting him from the day.

"Tris-_tan!" came the cheery voice. "Wake up, sleepyhead!"_

He just groaned again and ceased struggling with the girl who was perched above him. Instead, he buried his head in his pillow and resolved to ignore the intruder. But the girl was persistent and her hands started to tug on his arm. 

"Tristan! C'mon, you promised you'd-"

Knowing that she wouldn't give up until she got her way, Tristan threw off the covers and sat up, propping himself up on his elbows. "What are the chances of you shutting up and letting me get back to sleep?" he mumbled, falling back on his pillow and shielding his eyes from the blinding sunlight with his arm. 

Natalie smiled brightly, an action that could have rivalled the sun's rays. "Ummm," she pretended to think. "Slim to none."

He moved his arm away and was met with one of Natalie's cajoling smiles. "Fine, fine." He sat up. "Give me 20 minutes and I'll see you downstairs for breakfast."

He didn't think her smile could get brighter but it did. With a gleeful shriek, she threw her arms around him. "Great!" She hopped off the bed and pranced across the room, stopping when she reached the door. She turned back and grinned impishly. " Tristan?" When he turned, she went on, "I'll see you downstairs in _15." _

He gave a groan that was more pretence than anything else and then made a shooing motion with his hands. In return, Natalie merely winked and bounced out of the room. As he made his way to his bathroom, he muttered good-naturedly, "Wench!", smiling the whole time. 

* * * * *

_Her eyes widened as she scanned the faded words on the yellowed piece of paper. At first she thought her mind was playing tricks on her; she was convinced that she had misunderstood. So, she did not panic and rationally decided to read it again. Carefully, this time. _

_It had been Thanksgiving, and she was back in Stars Hollow during the weekend. It was her last year at graduate school and although she had gotten used to campus life and being on her own, a part of her still yearned for the simplicity that life at Stars Hollow had offered her. _

_They were due at her grandparents in an hour for Thanksgiving dinner and for once, it was Rory who was running late. Lorelai had her smug look on and was waiting patiently in the living room with a large mug of coffee, muttering something about how Rory finally got a clue and realized the merits of being late to the Gilmore dinners. Meanwhile, Rory was in her mother's room.  She had been looking through her mother's jewellery box, searching for a necklace that Lorelai had borrowed and had never returned. _

_And when she had pulled off the top layer of the jewellery box, she spied a piece of paper that was folded neatly and stuck to the side of the box. Intrigued, she had fished it out… and her life was changed forever. _

_* * * * *  
  
___

Natalie pulled off her helmet, her rich brown hair tumbling out in waves. Her smile was victorious and self-satisfied. "I beat you… _again."_

Tristan just shrugged. "Well, you've been practising. It's not like there's a go-kart track at every corner of New York, Nat." 

Natalie watched her brother for a second, suspicion making her clench her hands on the steering wheel. "You're not_ letting me win, are you Tristan?"_

Tristan beamed an innocent smile. "Of course not, _Natalie. How could you say such a thing?"_

Natalie's eyes narrowed as she revved the engine. She didn't buy the wounded look that he was sporting. "I dare you to beat me DuGrey," she challenged. 

His smile was cocky. "You're on, hotshot."

And they were off. 

* * * * *

_"Wait," he said hurriedly, his face a mask of confusion. "What did I do, Laura?" _

_The young woman shook her head, her blonde hair cascading across her shoulders. Wearily, she brushed loose strands behind her ear and sighed heavily. "It's what you didn't__ do."_

_His expression remained baffled. "What didn't I do?"_

_She breached the distance between them and locked her eyes on his, trying to prove her point. "How long have we been dating?"_

_A long pause.__ "A few months."_

_She smiled wryly. "6 months," she clarified. "And yesterday was?"_

_"Yesterday was May 6th," was his simple answer._

_She laughed lightly, bitterness lacing her next words. "It was also my birthday."_

_His eyes widened as he quickly reached out for her hand. Laura took a step away from him, flinching away from his touch. _

_"Laura," he said beseechingly. "I'm sorry. I-"_

_She held a hand up, cutting him off. "Don't bother apologizing."_

_He still went on. "I've just been busy and I-"_

_"Tristan__," she said, sharply. "Don't. Just don't, okay?" She bent down and picked up the purse that she had laid on the glass table. "I knew that it would turn out this way." _

_The puzzled look was back. "You knew? What- what do you mean? Why didn't you say anything if you were mad at me?"_

_She moved to stand in front of him and lay a hand on his cheek, her smile soft yet somehow self-censuring. "I'm not mad at you Tristan. I'm mad at myself__. When we started dating, I knew that eventually we wouldn't work out." She lightly stroked his cheek and marvelled- for what seemed like the hundredth time- at how breathtakingly good-looking he was. "I knew that you didn't and couldn't love me." She saw that he wanted to say something and quickly hurried on. "It's not just me, though. It's every woman. You've closed yourself up so much, Tristan, that you don't know how to love anyone." _

_His eyes searched hers and he contemplated her words, their meaning still not sinking in. Her smile turned to one of regret and she drew away her hand only to place a light kiss on his cheek. _

_"Goodbye, Tristan." _

_* * * * *_

"Hey, you're back," Lorelai exclaimed, smiling widely. 

"Yeah, I called Paris and we met in Hartford. Haven't seen her in a while," Rory explained, standing near the staircase. 

Lorelai patted the empty space on the couch next to her and invitingly held out the bag of Doritos in her hands. "Come sit and tell me what happened."

Rory looked down, unable to meet her mother's eyes and unwilling to see the hurt her next words would cause. "Um… I'm feeling kinda tired."

Although she didn't see it, she could sense that Lorelai's smile had faltered. She looked up quickly and attempted a smile.

"You sure?" Lorelai injected more cheer in her tone. "I have dip… and it's the salsa one that you love…"

"Not feeling up to any salsa-ing tonight. The bagel I had at the café is acting up and causing somersaults in my stomach."

"Bagel?"

"With cream cheese," Rory explained.

"Ah," Lorelai said with a gentle smile. "Your stomach always did have that love-hate relationship with cheese."

"Yeah, it does." There was an awkward beat of silence before Rory spoke again. "I'm gonna go lay down."

"Okay," Lorelai nodded. "You do that. I'll be here. With my Doritos, my salsa dip and the movie of the night, _Flipper."_

Rory's eyes widened in surprise. "_Flipper? Are you that bored?"_

"Evidently, I am. Besides," she countered, "I love dolphins."

That caused Rory to snort. "More like you love tuna."

Lorelai stuck her tongue out, which prompted Rory to stick _her tongue out and for just a second, the years faded away and the past was forgotten and everything was great again. Then the tidal wave of memory hit Rory like a tsunami and her smile vanished. _

"Uh… I'm gonna," she gestured in the direction of her room, "I'll be in my room."

Lorelai tried to wipe the hurt off her face but knew she wasn't successful. "Okay." She watched her daughter's retreating form and hated that the emotional distance between them was far greater than the literal distance. Resigned, she chomped noisily on a tortilla chip and sighed. 

"It's just you and me, Flipper."

* * * * *  
  


Natalie lifted the spoon into her mouth and closed her eyes as she savoured the taste of the ice-cream. 

"This right here… is _heaven," she purred as she took another spoonful._

"You're just saying that 'cos I paid for it," Tristan joked.

"Ice-cream is always better when someone else pays for you," she grinned as she dug her spoon in Tristan's sundae and took a large spoonful. "See, yours tastes orgasmic."

Tristan's big brother mode was on. "What do you know about orgasms?"

Natalie's eyes shined with mischief, reminding him of his own teenage years. "No first-hand experience, I'm afraid. I'm all talk." She shrugged prettily. 

"You better be telling me the truth, missy," Tristan warned.

"Would I ever lie to you?" 

"Yes, you would. And you have."

Natalie didn't say anything in defence of herself and just reached for more of Tristan's ice-cream. Seeing that, he pulled the bowl out of her reach. 

"No more, Nat. You know that," he said, looking pointedly at her.

"I know," she sighed. "It's just that it's so good!"

Tristan purposely took a large spoonful and grinned. "I know."

"Meanie." 

A napkin hit him in the face.

* * * * *

_"Wow, you sure were chatty during dinner," Lorelai commented as she manoeuvred the jeep though traffic. _

_Rory kept her eyes on the passing scenery as she couldn't bring herself to look Lorelai in the eye. "Didn't feel like talking," she mumbled._

_Concerned, Lorelai snuck a look at her daughter and caught the restrained anger in Rory's body language; the crossed arms, the furrowed eyebrows and the furious chewing on her bottom lip. _

_"What's wrong, Rory?"_

_The simple question triggered her anger. "You're asking me what's wrong?"_

_"Yes I am. It's a valid question," Lorelai replied, calmly._

_"Pull over," Rory demanded. _

_"Huh? What?"_

_"I said," Rory enunciated sharply, " pull over__." _

_"Okay Hitler, no need to get snippy." Lorelai made a left turn and pulled into an empty parking lot. She turned to face Rory. "So what's wrong?"_

_Rory uncrossed her arms and then crossed them again, her eyes defiant. "Do you have something to tell me, mother?" _

_"Hmmm… I ate the last of the chocolate chip-"_

_"Something important?"__ Rory interjected impatiently. _

_"Hey," Lorelai protested. "Those cookies are-"_

_"Like maybe something that affects my life… affects our __life?" _

_Lorelai__ ignored Rory and just continued talking. "-important. They're a staple in our-"_

_"Like maybe something about how my parents were married?" Rory suggested, her tone acidic. "Hmm… I guess that never crossed your mind, huh?"_

_A look of recognition passed through Lorelai's eyes and was quickly replaced with shock then horror. "Rory-"_

_"I don't feel like talking right now, mother__," Rory cut in, her eyes blazing with contempt. "We should just go home."_

* * * * *

"Stop that!" Tristan admonished as the two siblings entered their house, laughing loudly.

"But I like tugging on your hair," Natalie protested, reaching up to take a tuft of blonde hair. "It's so _purty," she said jokingly. _

"Oww, Nat! You're 16, not 6! Stop-"

"Well, I have to agree with Nat. Your hair _is pretty," was the comment that rang through the foyer. The pair stopped their tussling and turned to see Paris, leaning against the door frame leading to the living room._

"Paris!" Nat squealed, giving the older girl a hug. "What are you doing here?"

"I heard through the grapevine that Beavis there," she inclined her head in Tristan's direction, "was back in town and decided to check it out for myself." 

"Gossip sure moves fast," Tristan remarked as he dispensed a hug to his old friend. 

"Especially when it comes to you," Paris said. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming back?" 

"Unscheduled visit," was his explanation. 

"Sounds familiar."

"Huh?"

Paris shook her head and smiled. "Nothing."

The trio made their way to the kitchen, settling down at the kitchen table with glasses of iced tea.  

"So what's going on with you, Paris?" Tristan asked. 

"Met Rory yesterday," she commented casually. So casually that Tristan's radar went up.

"Oh really?"

Paris had to grin at his noncommittal response. "Yeah, she's on a break. Been working too hard."

  
"Wait a sec," Natalie interrupted. "Rory? _Rory Gilmore?" _

"Yes, that very one," Paris answered.

"The PJ Harvey girl?" 

Paris shot Tristan a look he couldn't decipher, then said, "That's her."

Tristan inwardly groaned as he realized what his wonderful sister would say next but knew that he could do nothing to stop her. Instead, he started planning damage control.

"The one who got away?"

This time, he could definitely interpret the look that Paris gave him; it was one of surprise and contemplation with a light touch of amusement. Oh, he was gonna have a hell of a time explaining this one to her.

"_The one who got away?" Paris arched her brow at the phrase. "Yeah, that's Rory Gilmore."_

Natalie seemed satisfied with her line of questioning and took a quick gulp of her tea. "Tristan drew a sketch of her yesterday," she offered.

Paris raised her eyebrow at him again and this time, Tristan winced. He knew he was doomed. He would never be able to explain this to Paris without humiliating himself or bringing up things he didn't want to bring up. He also knew that she was going to milk this for all it was worth and never ever let him forget it. 

"Oh really?" was Paris' amused response.

"And it was really good too," Natalie said, smiling. "I've never met her obviously, but I think he captured her very well."

Paris tossed another look in his direction. He just drank his tea and gave a small smile. Oh, he was _definitely doomed._

* * * * * 


	4. She's The One

A.N: Thank you for the reviews! :D

* * * * ***  
It Had To Be You  
by inmyeyes**

**04 : She's The One**

  


_ "Sometimes the most important moments are the ones that never happen."  
  
_

"So…" Paris began, peering interestedly at him. "Rory's the one who got away?"

Tristan leaned back on the downy cushions and took a swig of the brandy in his hands, his eyes running over the exquisitely-furnished living room. '_Mother must have redecorated,'_ he thought. Then his eyes caught the expectant look on his friend's face and he cursed his bad luck for the hundredth time.

He gave a casual shrug, striving to seem nonchalant. "You know how Natalie's mouth just shoots off."

Paris raised an eyebrow in response. "Oh really?" 

Tristan hated how perceptive she could be. "Yes, really."

"So, she isn't the one who got away? You didn't draw a sketch of her?" She watched him shift uncomfortably and curbed her urge to chuckle.

"No , she isn't. Yes, I did," was his curt answer.

Paris put on a pensive look and drummed her fingers against her chin as she smiled knowingly at him. "Hmm… and when was it that you last saw her?"

"I don't remember," he mumbled, taking another gulp of his drink. 

Her smile turned devious. "Oh wait, I know this! The last time you saw her-"

"-was at your Christmas party last year," he completed her sentence, his tone even. 

Paris shook her finger. "Nuh uh. A quick glance at her before you ran out 3 seconds after coming doesn't count." She grinned at his disgruntled groan. "So… technically, the last time you saw her… was over 10 years ago."

"What's your point, Paris?" he asked brusquely. "Cos I know you have one."

"So let's add up the facts," she said. "The last time you saw her was that night of the play. Despite the fact that you both have been at the same parties and gatherings in the past ten years, you always seem to avoid her. And still, you can remember her well enough to draw her and do it well." She feigned confusion. "Odd, isn't it? To top it all off, you say she's the one who got away. Hmmm…"

"I hate your persistence," Tristan mumbled, his eyes shooting daggers at her over the rim of his glass.

Paris just crossed her arms and smiled smugly. "Thank you." 

"You're like a vulture."

"And you're just stalling," Paris remarked. When he still didn't say anything, she added, "You know, if you're trying to spare my feelings… you don't have to. I got over you when I was 17."

"Gee, thanks," Tristan said dryly. "Nice to know that I'm so easy to get over."

"Nice to know that you're still hung up on Rory," Paris retorted.

"Shut up."

"Nice comeback."

Tristan raked his fingers through his hair and sighed heavily. "I'm not hung up on her, Paris."

"Sure you aren't," was her disbelieving reply which he ignored.

"It's just…" he broke off, trying to find the correct words, "I've never met anyone quite like her. There's just something about her…"

"Tristan-"

He shook his head quickly and held up a hand. "You don't understand. I-"

Paris cut him off. "I do. I get what you mean."

"She's my 'what if'. She's my 'could have been'." His voice softened. "When I think of her, I see how different I could be, might have been… if things were different." He looked up and saw an inscrutable expression on Paris' face.

The two of them shared a long look; their years of friendship producing an unshakeable bond and an understanding of each other. 

Paris smiled softly at him before grinning. "Basically… you're hung up on her."

Tristan buried his face in his hands and groaned loudly. "Paris!"

She laughed. "I know, I'm just kidding."

"You are evil," he remarked. 

"I learnt from the best." She decided to give him a break and changed the subject. "I'm actually acting as messenger today. Madeline's having a party tomorrow and when she heard you're in town, she told me to come over and invite you."

"A party?" 

She nodded. "Her little girl's birthday. Emily will be two tomorrow."

"I still can't believe she has a kid."

Paris smiled. "Neither can I. But she's happy."

"That's good." His lips curled into a wistful smile. "That's all we can ask for, happiness."

"So you'll be there?" she asked for confirmation. 

"Yeah sure. I'll drag Natalie along."

* * * * *

"She's still angry," was her opening sentence the moment someone picked up the phone.

"Hello to you, Lorelai."

Lorelai sighed. "I have no time for pleasantries, Chris. Our daughter is still upset." 

"Did you expect any less?" 

"No. But-"

"She has a reason to be upset. We kept this from her."

Lorelai hit her head against the kitchen table once and groaned. "_I_ kept this from her. And she _does_ have a reason to be upset. Just you like you do." She bit her lip, wondering if she should ask the question weighing on her mind. "Are you still angry at me?"

"It's been years. You know I'm not, Lorelai."

"You're just saying that," she accused. 

"_Lorelai_." His tone of voice told her not to kid around.

"What am I gonna do, Chris?" she moaned. 

"Wait for her to come around," he advised.

"That could take forever," she complained.

"Then you'll wait forever."

"Some help you are," she said dryly, getting up and pouring herself a cup of coffee.

"You're welcome."

* * * * *

She cradled the cup of steaming coffee in her hands, her eyes focused on a young couple who were sitting on the steps of the gazebo. She watched as the boy brushed back the girl's hair and kissed her lightly. She saw the way the girl looked at him adoringly and smiled shyly at him as her cheeks turned a shade of pink. 

A pang of… something hit her heart and she had to look away. She didn't want to think about love and relationships. Pulling her jacket closer to her body, she sighed, then took a sip of her coffee, hoping that it would warm her. But the chill still remained.

"Makes you think about our own teenage years, huh?" came the voice from behind her.

Startled, she turned around and immediately smiled when she saw her long-time friend. "Lane!"

"Rory!" Lane mimicked the excited tone of voice that Rory had used.

As they both burst out in laughter, hugs were exchanged.

Moments later they were seated at a corner table at Luke's, a plate of fries between them and a large mug of coffee for each. Rory suddenly felt years younger; it almost felt as though they were 17 again and gossiping about boys. '_Well_,' she mused, '_There'll still be gossiping about boys._'

"What's up with you?" Lane asked, munching on a fry. 

Rory narrowed her eyes in mock-annoyance. "You're asking what's up with _me_? You're the one who's engaged! Tell me all."

"Well-"

"Speaking of that, did Jess come with you?"

Lane shook her head. "Nope, he's busy with work. But he'll be here for Christmas. You _are_ gonna be here for Christmas, right?"

"Where else will I go? Of course I'll be here," she laughed.

"Well," Lane bit her lip, "I wasn't sure… after all that happened-"

Rory shook her head briskly, her hair falling into her face. "Tell me about Jess."

Lane looked over her friend, taking note of the weary expression in her eyes coupled with her silent plea to let the matter go. Biting back a sigh, she asked, smiling as cheerfully as she could, "What do you wanna know?"

* * * * *

"Tristan!" The yell was followed by a thunder of footsteps. Slightly out of breath, Natalie entered his room. Her hair was in her curlers, her make-up was half-applied and she had two dresses in her hands. 

Her shout and sudden appearance in his room didn't faze him at all. He continued to look through his closet, trying to find his black shirt. "What do you want, Natalie?"

Natalie leaned against the door frame, then cocked her head to the side, looking him over. "Have you been working out?"

Tristan turned around and shot her an incredulous look. "What?" He looked down at himself, seeing the dressy slacks that he had decided to wear. 

She shrugged. "Just asking." 

He chuckled, going back to his search for the elusive blue shirt. "You're weird, you know that?"

"I need help."

He laughed loudly at her words. "Yeah, you definitely do."

Walking into the room, Natalie let out a huff of indignation before plopping down on the unmade bed. "I can't decide what to wear."

"I can't find what I want to wear," he replied, his voice muffled as he moved deeper into his walk-in closet. Seconds later, his head popped out. "Have you seen my black shirt?"

"Wear the blue shirt. The one I got you," she advised, as she held up her two dress choices and stood in front of the mirror. "It makes your eyes stand out."

He snorted. "It makes my eyes stand out?" 

She turned to him and sighed. "Yes, it does. It makes your eyes look bluer. Trust me, girls notice these things."

He disappeared into the closet again. "Yes, master," he said mockingly, as he walked out of the closet, buttoning the shirt. 

"Choose one," Natalie asked, holding out the two dresses. 

"The white one is too short," he commented, as he looked in the mirror and ran his fingers through his hair.

She smiled brightly as she waltzed out of the room. "The white one it is," she called out over her shoulder.

Tristan just rolled his eyes.

* * * * *

"Natalie, get down here!" he yelled up the stairs. 

"Give me a second, I need to find my shoe!" was her muffled shout.

Shaking his head in amusement, he sat down at the bottom step of the staircase, whistling lowly as he threw his keys in the air and caught them. 

The loud sound of approaching footsteps made him stop and when he saw his father's imposing figure walk into the foyer from the study, he quickly stood up and pasted a polite smile on his face. 

"Hello father."

He got a nod in return. "Please ensure that you'll be free tomorrow evening."

"Why?" he asked, suspicious. 

"We're having dinner with an associate of mine," was the clipped answer.

"I don't-"

"You will be there," he said firmly. "We will all be there."

Tristan glared defiantly at his father for a few seconds, but knew that resistance was futile. "All right," he conceded.

"Good." 

He remained standing, watching his father's ramrod-straight back as he walked away. He had the strongest urge to throw that Ming vase on the nearby table against the pristine white wall and watch with satisfaction as it shattered into tiny pieces. 

But before he could do anything of that sort, he heard the sound of Natalie's heels clicking against the marble floor. Sighing, he ran his hands through his already tousled hair and tried not to seem too troubled. 

"What's wrong?" she asked, worriedly, noticing the tense set of his jaw.

"Nothing," he answered, smiling slightly. "Let's go."

* * * * *

"Rory!" 

At the sound of her name, Rory spun around and was met by a pair of arms that immediately surrounded her.

"You made it!" Madeline chirped happily as she pulled away.

Rory grinned. "Paris badgered me into coming." She held out a small, wrapped package. "And this is for the birthday baby. Where is she, by the way?"

Madeline accepted the gift, smiling gratefully. "Thank you. She's worn out by all the festivities. Brad's upstairs, putting her to bed."

"Seems like yesterday that she was born… and now she's two," Rory remarked, her eyes softening as she remembered the day when she visited Madeline in hospital and saw the baby for the first time. "She was the most beautiful baby." 

"That she is," Paris piped up, coming up from behind Rory with two glasses of juice. "Look, you're gonna make Mads cry."

Through her slightly watery eyes, Madeline giggled girlishly. She reached out and squeezed Rory's hand lightly. "Nah, I'm okay. It's just that she's growing up so fast."

The three women shared smiles. 

* * * * *

"I still don't see why you wore the white dress. It's not like there are gonna be boys your age at this party, anyway," he pointed out as the two of them made their way through the mass of people crowded in the living room. 

"You never know who you'll bump into."

"You're so vain sometimes," Tristan remarked, lightly pinching her cheek.

She slapped his hands away and glared at him. "Stop that."

"Oh, so you can pull my hair but I can't pinch your cheeks?"

She nodded. "That's right." Before he could say something, she caught sight of Paris, sitting by herself at a corner of the room. "Oh, look, there's Paris!"

"Bonjour, Mademoiselle," Tristan said smoothly when they reached her. "I see you're the life of the party."

"Don't be a smartass, DuGrey," she snapped but her grin clearly told him that she was merely joking.

"Yeah, don't be a smartass, DuGrey," Natalie said mockingly, sitting down next to Paris. 

"You're looking nice, Nat," Paris complimented. 

Natalie grinned, smoothing down her dress. "Thank you. Doesn't my brother look fabulous?"

Paris smirked and gave him a cursory glance before commenting, "Well, he looks like crap as usual."

"Excuse me but-"

Natalie cut in. "But high-class crap, right?"

"Of course," Paris nodded sagely. She leaned back and looked at him again. "But his eyes do look bluer for some reason," she said, after her scrutiny.

Tristan groaned loudly, and rolled his eyes. "I'm gonna go get something to drink," he announced, before spinning on his heel.

Paris and Natalie looked at each other before simultaneously laughing. 

"You're good," Natalie said, impressed.

"Naturally." Paris grinned. "Now you hold up your end of the bargain."

Natalie stood up and winked. "No problemo."

* * * * *

As Rory left the nursery, a sliver of want bubbled in her. She always thought that she would be absolutely content being a career woman… and she _was_, to a certain extent. But there were times like this, when she saw happily-wedded couples like Madeline and Brad and the family that they were starting, which made her feel like she was missing out on something big. Something meaningful… something that would make her life completely perfect.

She shook off those wistful thoughts and chided herself for her foolishness. She had long ago resigned herself to the fact that when the time was right, it would happen; when the time was right, she'd know. '_Plus_,' she told herself, '_Right now, you've got no time for that kind of stuff._'

Rory was so absorbed in her own musings that she didn't see the figure coming out of the bathroom and was unable to stop the collision. 

"Oh," she exclaimed, reaching out to steady the girl. "I'm sorry about that. I wasn't watching where I was going." She looked up and was disconcerted by the fact that the girl's eyes struck something in her. They reminded her of… someone.

Natalie smiled and tried to disguise her surprise when she recognized the woman in front of her. In real life, her beauty was even more breath-taking; her brother's charcoal sketch didn't give a hint of her sky blue eyes or creamy complexion and she exuded this charm that immediately drew Natalie in. 

"No, it's all right. Of course, if I had been hurt, I would have forced to sue you," Natalie said, grinning unabashedly. 

The girl's smile was infectious and Rory found herself playing along. "Oh, of course. I wouldn't have expected anything else."

"I'm Natalie," she offered, holding out her hand. 

"And I'm-"

"Rory Gilmore," Natalie said. She tilted her head and smiled cheekily. "I know."

Rory laughed. "Okay. Normally, I'd be more than a little freaked out-" 

It was Natalie's turn to laugh. "Sorry to disappoint, but I'm not a stalker. I know Paris and she's mentioned you a few times."

"Oh. It's nice to meet you then, non-stalker Natalie," Rory grinned. "Speaking of Paris, do you know where she is?"

"She said she was feeling a little queasy so she's probably in one of the empty rooms downstairs."

"All right, thanks," Rory said. "I'll see you around."

"I'm sure you will."

* * * * *

It figured that he would end up in this room.

He had been searching for either his sister or Paris but they were nowhere to be found, something that worried Tristan immensely; whenever those two were together, they were always planning something and that something more than always had to do with him. When he had finally given up, he had stumbled upon this room. And being the masochist that he was, he couldn't stop himself from walking in.

It was scary how he seemed to remember what the room had looked like over ten years ago; the flowers had inevitably been changed, the painting on the wall was the same and of course, the piano was still the centrepiece of the room.

And then somehow he found himself sitting on the piano bench and surprised himself by remembering and playing the song that he had played that night. At first the notes were hazy in his mind, but as his fingers steadily drummed out the melody, he gained more confidence. Closing his eyes, he lost himself in the music as he relived that night in his mind.

* * * * *

She was about ready to quit looking for Paris and just leave when the sound of music reached her ears. Curious, she followed the sound; it led her to a room a few doors down from the last one that she had looked into. Standing by the door, she peeked in and her breath caught in her chest. 

There was no mistaking the man who was beautifully playing the piano. Little had changed about him; his hair was still that same shade of blonde, still as messy and she was quite certain that his eyes were still that cerulean colour. The years had been good to him- there was now a different air to him; his face expressed a maturity that he didn't have before and the arrogance he once had was replaced with a quiet sort of self-assurance.

A tiny part of her was silently screaming out warnings, telling her to bolt and leave before he realized that she was there. Tristan was always a complicated person - she doubted that that had changed- and well, she didn't need, or want, any complication in her life. And she didn't think she could walk in there, say hello and then walk away. 

She took one last look at him, not really surprised by the jolt of lust that ran through her. He was a good-looking man and had always been, she conceded, and she figured that she was old enough to accept the attraction that she had for him and chalk it up as just that- an attraction and nothing more.

But she must have spent a second too long gazing at him because on their journey back up, her eyes collided with his.

'_Yes,'_ she thought hazily, '_they're still that same cerulean colour.'_

* * * * * 


	5. And We Meet Again...

**A.N:** Sorry for the long wait- I've been distracted by Hayden. [dreamy sigh] Anyways, this will be my last update in a while; I'll be off on holiday from end of May until mid-June so I won't be able to update. You can expect the next chapter around mid-June. :)  


* * * * *  
**It Had To Be You  
by inmyeyes  
05 : And We Meet Again...**

  
He felt that distinct sensation of being watched but it wasn't a feeling that he was unaccustomed to. Something in his gut told him it was a woman- when is it ever _not_ a woman, he mused- but that prick of heightened awareness that hit him made him sit up and take notice. 

The music tapered off as his fingers stilled and he slowly opened his eyes, his gaze immediately drawn to the small, feminine figure leaning against the doorframe. He had to smile when he noticed her appreciative scrutiny of him and withheld his urge to chuckle. Instead, he examined the woman closely as something at the back of mind informed him that he knew her or, at least, had seen her before. 

She was clad in a black dress that screamed of simple elegance, her rich brown hair hung in loose waves and her eyes-

Tristan's heart hammered against his ribcage when those blue eyes -as clear as the sky on a summer day- met his. He swallowed thickly as he ran his eyes over her; taking in her full appearance. 

Rory Gilmore. 

The first word that popped in his mind was beautiful and he inwardly groaned. Time had not diminished his attraction to her; if anything, it was now tenfold. And seeing the slight flush in her cheeks and that sparkle in her eyes did nothing to alleviate it. 

Taking one last deep breath, he finally allowed a smile to shine through, completely aware that it was probably way too bright. He was also conscious of the fact that he couldn't quite hide the interest in his eyes. 

"Rory Gilmore," he exclaimed, his voice resonating in the room. "It's been a long time." The moment the words left his mouth, he mentally slapped himself for stating the obvious. But then she returned his smile and all else was forgotten. 

"Indeed it has been, Tristan," she remarked, her heels clicking against the floor as she moved further into the room. 

He couldn't help but watch her; her shapely calves, the way the hem of her dress skimmed her knees with every step, the slightly swaying hips… Tristan bit back a groan. He would not do anything stupid, he told himself sharply. Like maybe acting on his attraction for her. 

Next thing he knew, she was sitting down next to him on the piano bench, her arm brushing against his. The scent of vanilla assailed his senses and his resolve melted away. If he didn't feel as though he was swimming against a strong current with no hope of making it to shore, he would laughed at his foolishness. 

He was just about to mutter some kind of pleasantry and initiate some small talk when she spoke first. "This is just déjà vu," she commented, sending a somewhat shy smile his way. 

He chuckled lightly, surprised that she had brought it up. "No, no," he disagreed, shaking his head. His smile widened and there was no mistaking the look of heat in his eyes. "Not quite déjà vu_ yet_."

Rory laughed, and the sound sent Tristan reeling back in time to his teenage years. "Not yet?" she teased, nudging his shoulder. 

"Not yet," he repeated, grinning unabashedly. 

Her fingers tinkered with the keys, discordant notes filling the room. As abruptly as she began, she stopped. She turned her head to look at him, her eyes boring into his. "How have you been?"

One corner of his lips twisted up in a half-smile. "Do you want the polite answer or the honest one?"

"Is there a difference?" she queried. She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. "Answer it whichever way you like."

"Sometimes good, sometimes bad," he replied, smiling slightly.

"Which answer was that?"

"Which one do you think?" Their eyes held for a moment before he cleared his throat and drew his gaze away. "How have you been?"

She lightly hit a key again. "Sometimes good, sometimes bad," she repeated his answer, her laugh matching his. "Where are you living now?"

"New York, I'm working at Chase & Heyer."

Her lips curled into a smile. "I wouldn't have pegged you as the architect kind." 

"Well, things have changed since we last met."

Rory looked straight at him and he had the disconcerting feeling that she could see right into him. "Yeah, things _have_ changed," she said softly. 

For just a second, the shield that she had been holding up fell away and Tristan saw a glimpse of melancholia in her eyes. She dragged her gaze away and when their eyes met again, the expression was replaced with a more playful look. 

"So, are you married? Gotten your 2.4 children yet?"

"Hardly," Tristan scoffed, his tone dry. 

Rory shrugged. "Well, I thought that with all the women who are foolish enough to throw themselves at you, you would have at least found one tolerable enough."

"Is that cynicism I hear, coming from Rory Gilmore?" he asked incredulously. Before she could answer, he went on, "Just because women may throw themselves at me, as you so eloquently put it, doesn't mean that I'd jump into marriage. And," he added, just as Rory was about to retort, "if and when I _do _marry, I'd hope that she'd be more than just _tolerable_."

Rory focused her eyes on the piano keys, too ashamed to meet his eyes. She knew that she had gone too far with her comment and she knew that it was unwarranted but being near him always brought up the aggressive side of her and this time was no different. 

"Tristan," she began tentatively, biting her lip in nervousness. "I-"

He just shook his head and stood up. "You know, Rory, it seems like despite the contrary, things haven't really changed." He sent her a look of disappointment as he tried hard to seem unaffected. "You still see me as that 16 year-old Tristan DuGrey who was a player and harassed you at school."

With that, he strode to the door and only stopped to say to her, "It was nice seeing you again, Rory." His tone was cold and reeked of practised civility. 

Rory just closed her eyes and sighed. 

* * * * *

"What's wrong with you?" Natalie asked as she leaned back on the soft pillows on her brother's bed. "You've been frowning ever since we left the party."

"It's nothing," Tristan said, brushing off her concern. He disappeared into his bathroom and emerged seconds later in a pair of sweat pants.

"You're angry," Natalie commented as she noticed the set of his jaw. "What happened?"

"Do you ever mind your own business?" Tristan asked, rolling his eyes. 

"You are my business. Who else can I harass if not my own brother?" she asked, her grin cheeky. She watched him as he sat down at his desk and brought out his sketchbook. A moment later, her expression turned serious. "Is this about Rory Gilmore?"

"No," was his terse answer but the way his shoulders tensed at the mention of the name told Natalie otherwise. 

"You saw her at the party, didn't you?"

"Natalie," he warned. "Stop."

Natalie didn't heed his words. "I thought that you'd be glad to see her. More than glad."

Tristan sighed, hating how persistent she could be. "Things are complicated between the two of us."

"How complicated?"

He turned to face her, his expression unyielding. "_Natalie_."

She bit back the hundreds of questions that were running through her mind, knowing better than to push Tristan. She got off his bed and smiled. "I'm gonna get some sleep." 

Tristan watched her departing figure, hating his harshness to her. "Nat?" She spun on her heel and waited for him to say something. "Good night."

Natalie smiled widely and bounded back into the room, placing a loud kiss on his cheek. "Good night, Tristan."

When her footsteps finally faded away and he heard the click of her bedroom door closing, he let out a loud sigh and leaned back on his chair. Wearily, he ran his hand over his face, stopping to rub his temples. He had a pounding headache from all the contemplation that he had been doing ever since he had left Rory in that room. 

God, how she vexed him so! She knew just the right buttons to push and the words to say to push him over the edge and, he admitted, he had that same ability when it came to her. She was exasperating, infuriating… and utterly beautiful. 

Leaning forward, Tristan hit his head against his mahogany desk once, enjoying the loud thump that reverberated in the empty room. He rested his head against the smooth wood, closed his eyes and was rewarded with the memory of how she had looked like. 

Their meeting did not go the way he wanted it to. Granted, he didn't have idyllic fantasies of her proclaiming her long-held love for him nor did he think that they would fall into each other's arms but he had hoped for a measure of camaraderie. He had hoped that it would have been more light-hearted and more… _promising_. Yes, he decided, promising was a good word to encapsulate what he had hoped for- promise for the beginning of a friendship. And he had fervently hoped that she no longer viewed him the way she did 10 years ago.

Apparently, he had hoped too much. And apparently, he had underestimated the power of his attraction to her. 

He felt like the 16 year-old he had been; not as confident as he seemed, ridden with the nerves that attacked him every time he was near her, and wishing that the one thing, the one person that he desperately wanted would not elude him so.

It was no surprise to him that it was Rory who brought back such feelings. 

* * * * *

Rory shut the front door behind her, leaned her head against it and sighed. 

"How was the party?" 

Lorelai's voice startled her out of her reverie. Rory groaned and leaned more heavily against the door. "I met Tristan."

Lorelai took a sip of her coffee, her brows furrowed in confusion. "Tristan? Should I know this name? Give me a clue."

"A clue?" Rory's smile was wry. "Mary."

Lorelai snapped her fingers as recognition dawned on her. "_Oh_, you mean Bible Boy Tristan." She motioned in the direction of the living room, asking Rory to follow. When they were comfortably situated, Lorelai leaned forward eagerly, wanting to know all the details. "So, refresh my memory. Tell me about Bible Boy."

"Cliff-notes version: he called me Mary, he was a pest, we kissed-"

"You kissed?" Lorelai sputtered.

"-we became friends-"

"Y'know, normally after kissing, people become _more_ than friends."

"-I set him up Paris, it backfired. Then came the PJ Harvey incident and the play in junior year. Then Tristan went bye bye and was shipped to military school."

Lorelai's eyes gleamed. "When did you kiss him?"

"Party." 

"Why didn't you share this little tid-bit?" Lorelai demanded. "I'd think that kissing the spawn of Satan would have made front-page news in the Gilmore household."

"Forgot." Rory felt weary all of a sudden and remembered that she was actually still angry at her mother. Well, somewhat angry. Sometimes, it was too easy to give in to the urge to pretend that everything was all right. She stood up, smoothing down her dress and giving Lorelai a quick apologetic smile. "I need sleep. I'll tell you about tomorrow." She saw the uncertain look on Lorelai's face and felt guilt rack through her. She couldn't help but add, "I promise."

Lorelai smiled. "Okay, but you mustn't forget to tell me every single tiny detail."

"I'll try."

"Good," Lorelai nodded. "I look forward to it."

Rory had to laugh at the expectant look on her mother's face.

But the moment she was alone in her bedroom, all good cheer left her as she recalled what had happened with Tristan. 

She hadn't meant what she had said, of course; it had just come out. She didn't even know why she brought up the subject of marriage, especially with him. And she knew that her words were hurtful. That wounded look in his eyes… she couldn't forget that. 

She was very much attracted to Tristan, that she was certain. The nervous pattering of her heart, the clammy palms and her awareness of his every breath, every move were sure signs. But, she told herself, it wasn't anything more than hormones. It was only hormones mingled with the surprise of seeing him again after so long. 

Or so, she hoped.

* * * * *

Years of being dragged to social events and numerous parties did nothing to soften his feelings towards wearing a tie- Tristan still hated those long pieces of cloth. Instead of getting used to the feel of it –it felt more like having a noose around his throat, he scoffed- he found his discomfort increasing. But years of discipline and lectures on proper dress and behaviour made him restrain the urge to yank the offending item away and stomp on the silk material with his Prada shoes. 

'_DuGreys must always behave in a proper manner,_' he repeated the mantra that his parents had imparted to him, rolling his eyes at how highly they valued keeping up appearances. 

Something about being in his parent's company, and knowing that he was surely going to be paraded around as an eligible bachelor to whatever female relatives his father's associate, had made his usually cool demeanour slip. 

As head architect of Chase & Heyer, Tristan wore a suit to work every day and took extra care whenever he was meeting with a prospective client. He was no stranger to more formal dress but he was always rankled whenever he was forced to dress like so while out with his parents. 

He did not care for the approving looks they sent his way whenever they deemed his attire appropriate. He did not enjoy feeling as though he was 12 again and needed to be told what to wear. He abhorred that suffocating sensation that swallowed him when he was with them and had to play the part of the filial son. 

No, he reasoned, it wasn't the tie that was the problem. It was his parents. 

He bit back a frustrated sigh, choosing instead to shine a bright smile Natalie's way. When he saw her pinched expression fade slightly, he felt his own tension ebb away.

At least he had Natalie with him. 

* * * * *

"You know, Mom, I would have thought that by this time, you'd be used to these dinners," Rory called out from the living room. 

She distinctly heard a snort before her mother's reply sounded, "I don't think that anyone can ever get used to a thorn in their side."

Rory rolled her eyes slightly, not surprised by Lorelai's vehement answer. She reached for on old copy of _In Style_ magazine that lay on the coffee table and thumbed through it absentmindedly, her thoughts dwelling on her conversation with Lorelai earlier that afternoon. 

As she had promised, she had divulged the details of meeting Tristan again, conveniently omitting a few pertinent facts- the lust that ran through her body, her unkind words and the bad parting between them. In short, she gave Lorelai a glossed-over version of the real incident, only citing the fact that she had been surprised- and she made sure to mention that it was a pleasant one- and that they had talked for a short while. 

If Lorelai knew that not all had been revealed, she didn't show it. And indeed, Lorelai was more concerned and pleased about the slow rebuilding of that trust between them that she held so dear and had taken for granted. She was relieved to included in Rory's life again, albeit in a small way. She would take whatever she could get, she reasoned. 

Still, Lorelai knew that some explanation had to be given, that they would have to talk about it and sort through it before they could really begin to get things back to normal again. But for the moment, she was content with all the baby steps that they were carefully taking. 

Rory shook her head lightly, trying to dispel her worrisome thoughts about the state of their relationship. '_Focus on the present_,' she said to herself. The burden of the resentment and bitterness that had built up after finding out about her parent's hasty marriage and subsequent divorce had weighed heavily on her mind. She was tired of carrying all that anger around so although forgiving Lorelai was still a stretch for her, she was resolved to try and lessen the tension between them- if only for her own sanity. 

The thud of footsteps on the stairs brought her back to reality. Her head snapped up and she saw Lorelai standing at the base of the staircase, a martyred expression on her face. 

"I'm ready to endure the unjust and cruel Gilmore torture," she proclaimed.

Rory snickered as she got up and adjusted her skirt so that its folds fell just right. "You're always so dramatic," she commented as the pair made their way out of the house.

"Well," Lorelai countered, "these dinners are always boring."

* * * * *

"Rory, how's life at the New York Times?" Richard asked, his gaze interested.

Inwardly, Rory blanched as she realized that she hadn't thought of work in two days. '_That's a record for me_,' she mused. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that she was enjoying being free from the hustle and bustle of being a reporter. She had been so caught up in her job that free time became a luxury that she just didn't have, or need. 

The smile that upturned her rosy lips made Richard smile in satisfaction. "So, I take it things are going well?"

Rory focused on her grandfather's pleased expression and felt a tingle of accomplishment run through her at his obvious pride in her achievements. "It's going exceedingly well, Grandpa." 

Richard nodded his head in acceptance, his smile broadening. "Good, good."

Emily took advantage of the lull in the conversation to switch to, in her opinion, a more interesting topic. "So, Rory," she began, a smile creeping upon her elegant features, "Is there someone special in your life?"

Rory held back a groan; she had been certain that such a question was sure to come up and it wasn't a question that she liked answering. "Grandma-"

From her perch at the edge of the hard, uncomfortable chair, Lorelai observed the shifting emotions that played across her daughter's face and noticed Rory's clenched hands on her lap. Knowing how it felt to be under fire from Emily' relentless questions and thorough scrutiny, Lorelai jumped in, "Mom, it's nearly 7.30. Shouldn't we be having dinner already?"

As Emily turned to give Lorelai a dissenting look for interrupting at such an inopportune time, Rory shot her mother a grateful smile to which Lorelai gave an imperceptible nod in return.

"Actually," the sound of Richard's voice got the attention of the three women in the room, "we're waiting for some guests. One of my business associates is joining us for dinner."

"Business associates?" Lorelai asked, arching a brow in suspicion.

"Yes, Lorelai," Richard answered with a smile, his pointed look telling her that he saw the suspicion in her eyes. "We've been doing business with their company for a long time now."

Emily nodded her agreement. "The DuGreys are good people." The sound of choking made her turn her head; she saw Rory hastily set down her glass of soda and reach for a tissue. 

"Sorry," Rory sputtered, her face flushed, "I drank a little too fast." She ignored the smirk that she knew Lorelai was sending her way. She was saved from further embarrassment with a maid entered the sitting room.

"M'am, the DuGreys are here."

Emily got up gracefully, turning on her 'hostess' smile. "Splendid. Please show them in, Marie."

As the family of four entered the room, Emily and Richard rose to receive their guests as Rory quickly averted her eyes and focused instead of her fingers. 

"Rory!" 

The cheerful voice made her look up and she felt a smile seep through when she recognized the girl who was standing in front of her with a big grin.

"Natalie, it's good to see you again." A second later, the pieces of the puzzle fit in her mind. She threw a contemplative glance at the girl and raised her brow in question. "Natalie _DuGrey_, I presume?"

"You presume right."

"A detail that you forgot to mention to me last night," Rory remarked. 

Natalie waved her hand in the air dismissively. "I forgot."

The mischievous grin on the girl's pretty features told Rory otherwise.

"Hi, I'm Lorelai, Rory's mother," came the voice form behind Rory. 

Natalie's smile remained bright, making Rory wonder if anything ever got to her. "Natalie DuGrey, pleasure to meet you." Her eyes flitted between the two women. "You two look more like sisters," she commented.

Lorelai grinned. "That's what you get when you have a kid at 16," she joked. 

Natalie's eyes widened. "You-"

"Hello, Rory."

Rory's gaze went to the figure behind Natalie and came to rest on the pair of blue eyes that had had made her breath catch the night before. "Tristan," she smiled genuinely, grateful that she had been granted the chance to at least apologize to him. "I didn't think that we'd meet again so soon." She saw something flicker in his eyes but it was gone too fast for her to discern what it had been.

"Neither did I," he answered, his eyes still on hers. 

* * * * *

**A.N**: Another cliff-hangery end to a chapter. Not intentional, I swear, but I didn't want this to get too long. So... I'm sorry but you're gonna have to wait. :) 


	6. You Move Me

A.N: It's been a long while, I know. Being away put me in a non-writing funk and I finally managed to get this chapter sounding the way I wanted it to. Well.. _almost_. A thank you to Roxy for her help. Now that this is done, I'm hoping that the next chapters will come a little easier. :) Keep the feedback coming; I love to hear from you guys.

* * * * *  
**It Had To Be You  
by inmyeyes  
06 : You Move Me**

  
"Something about you  
It's just the way you move  
The way you move me…"  
- "Back To You" by John Mayer

"So _you're_ Tristan." Lorelai was the first to speak; her words tearing his gaze away from the lovely woman he had been staring at. 

"And you must be Rory's mom," he said, his smile sincere. 

"Lorelai Gilmore." She shook his hand. "Nice to put a face to a name I've heard about ever since Rory was 16." 

Rory looked at her mother and easily read the expression she was sending her way- '_And what a handsome face it is._' Discreetly, she nudged Lorelai's side.

"Wow, two Lorelai Gilmores," he remarked, not able to stop his grin. 

Lorelai shrugged. "I had a momentary narcissistic moment. Exhaustion over too many hours of labour and the lack of drugs can do that to you."

"Besides there are actually three Lorelai Gilmores," Rory corrected. Lorelai gave a mock shudder at the thought of Trix, her grandmother. 

"You had Rory when you were 16?" Natalie was still in disbelief.

"It was quite the scandal," Rory chipped in. 

"Which is why we shouldn't talk about this now," Lorelai said pointedly as the elder DuGreys and Gilmores came further into the living room. 

* * * * *

"Tristan, your father tells me that you're an architect," Richard said, smiling at the young man. 

He snuck a quick look at his father and resisted the urge to make a smart-ass comment. "Yes, sir. I'm the head architect at Chase & Heyer."

Richard looked suitably impressed. "That's a good company."

Tristan swallowed the gulp of coffee he had taken and smiled. "One of the best in New York." 

"Rory lives in New York as well," Emily offered, smiling conspiratorially.

Lauren DuGrey set down her cup and returned the smile. "Oh really?"

"So, Rory, where do you work?" 

Rory looked up from her cup of coffee and met the clear blue eyes of Stephen DuGrey. Dimly, she realized that he shared the same colour eyes as Tristan. On her own accord, her eyes flickered to the man sitting to her left who shot her an apologetic smile. She turned her attention back to the elder DuGrey and mentally noted how much Tristan's eyes held more… warmth than his father. 

"I'm a reporter for the New York Times," she answered, smiling politely. "I write mainly human interest stories and sometimes, articles on the arts as well."

"And she does photography on the side lines too," Emily supplied, full of pride for her accomplished grand-daughter. She gestured to the framed photograph that lay above the fire place. "Rory gave that to us."

Intrigued by this new information, Tristan got up, wanting to take a closer look at the photograph. 

"I took it at Tahoe," came the voice from behind him. He turned and saw Rory's shy smile. She moved to stand beside him as her eyes scanned the photograph. "I went with a few friends the winter after I graduated from Columbia." 

Tristan's eyes rested on her for a second before going back to the photograph. "It's beautiful."

"It was," she agreed. "I told myself that I'd go back there during summer and take more." Then a wistful note crept into her voice, "But I haven't had the time nor the opportunity."

"Well-"

"Rory," Emily chimed in, her smile bright. "Why don't you show Tristan your other photographs in the library?"

"Grandma, I don't think-" 

Tristan cut in. "I'd love to see them."

Rory gave him a disbelieving look but gave in after a moment. "All right, sure."

* * * * * 

As Tristan and Rory left the room, Lorelai noticed the shared smiles between her mother and Lauren. She nudged the young girl sitting beside her. "Is there something going on here that I don't know about, Natalie?"

Natalie looked back and forth at her parents and shrugged. "Nothing that I know about."

"Rory's such a beautiful young woman," Lauren commented as she took a small sip from her glass. "And intelligent too. She'd be perfect for Tristan."

"They do make a fine match," Emily agreed. 

Lorelai's eyes widened. "Mother," she said pointedly, "can I speak to you for a moment?"

When they were safely in the kitchen, Lorelai didn't waste any time. "What do you think you're doing, Mom? You're setting her up with Tristan?!?" She shook her head vehemently. "I can't believe you're doing this!"

"Lorelai," Emily replied calmly. "I'm not doing anything."

Lorelai snorted in derision. "They do make a fine match," she repeated Emily's earlier words in a haughty voice. 

Emily shrugged. "I was merely stating my opinion. They _do_ make a fine match."

"You don't know anything about Tristan! How can you say that?" 

"It's just my opinion, Lorelai. There's no need to get upset over it."

There was a short, tense silence as Lorelai glared at her mother. "All right, fine. Then promise me you won't do anything to push Rory onto him," she demanded.

Emily was affronted. "I will do no such thing."

"_Mom_," Lorelai said warningly. 

"Rory hasn't been seeing anyone in a long time," Emily sighed. "There's no harm in her getting to know Tristan."

Lorelai was still wary. "Mom, just back off. Just don't push her, okay?"

"Okay," Emily answered, stressing the word. "No pushing."

* * * * *

"When did you take up photography?" Tristan asked as they stood before another one of Rory's photographs that was hanging in the library.

"College. I was working for the paper and they were short of photographers. I learnt the ropes, and found that I really enjoyed it."

"So you became a photographer for the paper?" 

Rory shook her head. "Only for about a semester; I found out that I still loved writing more than taking pictures."

"You've got a talent for it," he commented, staring at a photo of a smiling child sitting in the sand. 

"It's just a hobby."

Tristan turned to her, his eyes serious. "No, you seem to be able to catch things that people usually don't see." 

"What?"

He laughed lightly, shaking his head. "Never mind."

When he turned his back to her and began to examine the books lining the wall, Rory took a deep breath and gathered her courage to do what she had been wanting to do- apologize to him. 

"Tristan," she began, moving closer to him. Surprising her, he spun around and Rory was disconcerted to realize that his proximity made her nerves singe. She looked up, catching his gaze and that same flicker in his eyes that she had noticed earlier was back and this time, he wasn't hiding it. Smiling uncertainly, she took a small step back. 

"Um…" she licked her lips, "I just want to apologize."

He gave her a confused look. "What for?"

"For yesterday. For making assumptions that I have no business making. For being rude."

"Yesterday?" His furrowed brows conveyed his bafflement. 

"Yesterday," Rory confirmed. "When we talked and I-" She looked up and caught the smile that he failed to hide. When he realized that she caught onto his charade, he laughed and Rory could only roll her eyes in exasperation. 

"You take pleasure in vexing me, don't you?" she remarked, closing the distance between them and playfully hitting his shoulder. 

His grin turned into a leer. "No, actually," he ran his eyes deliberately over her, causing the heat in the room to rise, "I take pleasure not only from just vexing you." 

The look in his eyes made his meaning unmistakeable and Rory took in a sharp breath as a jolt of current ran through her. Of course, at that moment, her traitorous mind used that opportunity to take in the visual of him leaning against the book shelves, an inviting smile curling his lips and interest shining in his eyes. When he noticed her scrutiny, he slowly ran his tongue over his bottom lip and she had to tear her eyes away before she did something stupid. 

She smiled shakily at him before heading for the door. "We better get back. I'm sure dinner will be served soon," she said over her shoulder. 

She was so far ahead of him that she missed his rueful sigh. 

* * * * *

He was seated across from her (a feat that she suspected was engineered by her eager grandmother) and every time she looked up from her salmon, her eyes would slam into his and this weird, tingly sensation would travel through her spine. She'd try to smile and then, realizing what she was doing, she'd move her gaze back to her peas and push them around her plate. 

And as her peas would move around the expensive china, she'd realize that _he_ was staring at her and that same weird, tingly sensation would run through her again. Then she'd remember the tantalizing way he had licked his lips… 

'_Get a hold of yourself, Rory!_' she silently chided herself. She snuck another glance at him and told herself that yes, he was attractive. '_Very attractive_,' she conceded and that maybe, she might feel a little lust. '_Okay, maybe more than a little lust.' _But, she told herself firmly, that didn't have to mean anything. Just because she was attracted to him didn't mean that anything had to happen.

Having somewhat managed to convince herself that nothing but a case of lust was going on, she looked up from her plate again and this time, cerulean eyes caught hers. The way he looked at her made her grasp her fork a little tighter. He smiled; Rory grabbed her glass and took a quick sip of water. As she set down the glass, she saw her grandmother smiling encouragingly at her. 

She almost wanted to groan- from frustration and from knowing exactly what it was that her grandma was encouraging her to do. Just by looking at Mrs DuGrey and seeing that same smile confirmed her suspicions. Add to that all the questions both Tristan and her were asked and the looks that passed between his parents and her grandparents and Rory was quite sure that some matchmaking was going on. 

* * * * *

If it had been any other girl that his parents were trying to set him up with, he would have just given them a piece of his mind and told them to mind their own business. But, this was Rory Gilmore- and he didn't know if he should put an end to this, knowing that Rory wouldn't ever be interested in him, or if he should just go with it and enjoy it for all it was worth. 

He knew that Rory realized what was going on; his parents and Mrs Gilmore weren't the most subtle people. He also knew that while she was slightly uncomfortable with the idea, she wasn't completely repulsed; he didn't miss the quick glances that she threw his way when he wasn't looking.

As he sat across from her, watching her take small bites of her ice-cream and warding off intrusive questions from his mother, he had the most insane urge to run his fingers through the chocolate strands of hair, tug her close to him and kiss her senseless. Times like this, he wished that he didn't find her so beautiful. And so intriguing. And so damn appealing. 

Once she was done answering yet another one of his mother's inane questions, his eyes met hers and he silently apologized. She gave him a smile in return and Tristan had to remind himself that he should stay away from her. 

Stay away from her- that was the conclusion he had come to the previous night when he had lain awake, mulling over her reappearance in his life. She had wrecked him once; when he didn't know any better, when he didn't expect it, when he hadn't been able to deal with it and he'd be damned before he would allow her to do it again. Rory Gilmore was dangerous to his peace of mind. And for his heart.

He had managed to avoid her for ten years, he reasoned, and so, it shouldn't be very difficult to avoid her for another ten years and another ten after that, and after that… until he completely erased any trace of her from his impeccable memory. 

But seeing her again tonight, and then being alone with her in that room… he found it too easy to slip back into the role he once filled- her sparring partner, and the boy who was hopelessly infatuated with her. Except that the stakes were slightly higher now that he had glimpsed he sliver of lust that had sparkled in her eyes and disappeared just as quickly.

He'd be fine, he reassured himself. In a few days, he'd leave for New York, bury himself in his work and push the memories of Rory into the recesses of his mind. Rory was dangerous but he'd be fine as long as he kept his wits about him. He'd be fine as long as he ignored the heated gaze that she sometimes directed his way. 

He'd be fine, he told himself. But somehow, he didn't believe it. 

* * * * *

As Richard and Emily said their goodbyes to the elder DuGreys, Rory breathed a sigh of relief. The night had finally come to an end with a not-so-subtle invitation by Lauren to "drop by and have dinner some time", saying that she was "a lovely young woman whom they'd love to see more of". Rory just smiled, gave the mandatory "it was nice meeting you too" and tried not to make any promises. She also tried to ignore her grandmother's overly bright smile and excused herself before Emily could coerce her into making any commitments. 

Between the DuGreys' interest in her and the weird tension between Tristan and her, she was worn out. Finally, she could go home, find sanctuary in her room and think over the events of the night with a large mug of coffee in her hands.

Studiously looking away from Tristan, her eyes landed on his sister and she saw the weary expression on the girl's face. "Are you feeling all right, Nat?" she asked, laying a hand on her shoulder.

The usually bubbly girl gave a small smile. "Just feeling a little under the weather, that's all."

"A little under the weather?" asked Tristan, coming up from behind Rory and giving his sister a concerned look.

Natalie's tone was firm. "It's nothing, Tristan."

He brushed back her hair and lightly kissed her temple. "You sure?" 

She gave him a quick hug. "I am."

Rory had to smile as she watched the two siblings interact. She would never have thought that Tristan would be such a caring and protective brother but he kept on surprising her. 

"It was really good to see you again, Rory," Natalie said, reaching out to give her a hug. 

"Thanks, hope you feel better soon," Rory smiled.

As Natalie pulled away, she saw the way Tristan was looking at Rory and resisted the urge to grin. "I'm gonna say bye to Lorelai," she made a lame excuse, leaving the two together.

Rory was the one to break the awkward silence. "I really am sorry about yesterday."

"There's nothing to be sorry about." 

"Tristan-"

"Fine," he rolled his eyes playfully. "I accept your apology. And I offer my own apology… for tonight."

Rory shook her head. "It's not your fault."

"Yeah, someone planted that insane idea in their heads."

"Insane idea, huh?" Rory asked casually, arching her brow and hoping to appear nonchalant.

Tristan chuckled and tried to smile cheekily. "Insane," he repeated, shaking his head for emphasis. "We're like oil and water."

"Let me guess," she said dryly, "I'm the water."

"No, you're the oil."

"What?"

He laughed it off. "Never mind." He turned and saw the rest of his family watching him. "Well, the troops are waiting. It was nice seeing you again, Rory." But his smile told her that it was more than just nice… or at least, that was what she thought his smile was saying. 

"It was nice," she agreed, copying his neutral tone. She cast her eyes to the floor for a moment, unsure of how much to reveal to him. She couldn't help it though; she looked up at his from beneath her lashes and shot him a shy smile.

A second or two passed before Tristan took a step closer and leaned forward to kiss her cheek, lingering a little longer than he should have. When he pulled away slightly, Rory gave him a questioning look. He merely chuckled and whispered in her ear, "Just giving them something to talk about… Mary."

And as she watched him walk away, she was smiling widely.

* * * * * 

Rory leaned back against the soft cushions, sighing in relief. 

"I'm sorry, I tried to stop her."

She didn't move but merely uttered a "What?" A moment later, the sofa sagged under her mother's weight and a sigh similar to the one she had let out sounded. 

"I tried to put a halt to the wedding plans but my mother had already sent out the invitations."

Rory closed her eyes, willing her brain to just stop analysing everything that had happened that night and give her a break. "Oh… _that_."

Lorelai sat up, looking incredulous. "That's all you have to say?"

"What else should I say?" Rory mumbled, blindly reaching for a cushion. 

There was another sigh as Lorelai handed a cushion to her. "Rory, they were practically discussing what to name your children!"

Rory hugged the cushion to her chest. "Oh, they're that far ahead? I thought that they were only deciding how many people to invite."

"I think it'd be easier for them to decide who _ not_ to invite," Lorelai scoffed, settling back against the back of the couch. "It's a DuGrey-Gilmore wedding after all." She crossed her arms. "I can't believe Mom practically betrothed you to him… especially after I told her not to push. But _nooo_, Emily Gilmore does not get the meaning of backing off. She just-"

"You know what?" Rory cut in, too exhausted to deal with Lorelai. "I don't wanna talk about it."

"She went too far. She should know better than to try and set you up with-"

"Mom," Rory said firmly. "Grandma meant no harm."

Lorelai balked at that statement. "She's probably already planning the guest list, deciding which caterers to use, where to hold the reception. _She meant no harm?_ You won't be saying that when you suddenly find yourself dressed in a Vera Wang wedding gown with a 6 feet train, a mountain of lace and the family jewels around your neck. You won't be saying that when-"

"Mom, it's not fair for you to-"

"You'll wake up one morning and realize that you're nothing but Tristan DuGrey's trophy wife and your life's purpose is to-"

Rory rolled her eyes, getting ticked off that her mother would blow everything out of proportion. "Grandma meant _no_ harm. I don't wanna talk about_ weddings _and _marriages_, okay Mom?"

At that, Lorelai's tirade lost its steam. But Rory was just getting started. 

Something in her had just snapped and the words were tumbling out; she just wanted to get rid of all the frustration building up in her. "Besides, it's no wonder that she'd be excited about planning my future wedding," Rory commented, her tone even. "Y'know… since she missed out on yours." She ended the sentence with a wry smile. "The greater pity is that I don't think I'll ever get married." Abruptly, she stood up and walked away, stopping only when she reached the hallway. She didn't bother turning around when she remarked softly, "I don't think I _want_ to." 

Still, Lorelai heard her loud and clear. 

* * * * *

"This was some night, huh?" Tristan sardonically remarked to the figure lying on his bed. When there was no snappy comeback, he walked over and lightly shook Natalie's shoulder. "Nat, are you all right?"

Drowsily, the young girl opened her eyes and smiled, trying to reassure him. "Just a little tired."

"You sure?" Tristan asked, laying a hand on her forehead. "You were really quiet during dinner."

"I had nothing to say," she quipped. "Mom and Dad were too busy interrogating Rory."

He gave a chuckle and lay down beside her. "You noticed, huh?" He closed his eyes and an image of Rory popped in; instantly, his eyes snapped open. He could feel a headache coming on.

"It was a little too obvious for even me to ignore." She turned slightly to face him, wanting to watch his reaction. "And even if I didn't notice, their little hints during the ride back were enough to tip me off."

"Little hints?" he scoffed. "They might as well rent out a billboard, ordering me to date her!" He ran his fingers through his hair, sighing. "They acted as though they're picking out a horse- finding one of good breeding, one-"

"I'd say that they mean well… but I'd be lying," Natalie said with a smile. 

"They didn't get to dictate which job I'd have… so instead, they're choosing a wife for me," was his bitter response. "Typical."

"Hey, don't get so worked up." She reached over and hugged him. "It's not worth it." 

"Yeah," he agreed, but his frown remained. The smile on her face dropped away, suddenly replaced by a wince, something which Tristan immediately noticed. "Nat?"

"I'm fine," she said, waving her hand dismissively as she got off the bed. "I'm gonna head to bed now. Tomorrow, I'll be the same happy Natalie you've come to love. I just need some rest."

He peered at her suspiciously but nodded anyway. "Okay."

When she reached his door way, she turned back and a hint of her mischievous grin was back. "And tomorrow, I get to hound you about Rory." 

Tristan let out a loud groan and threw a pillow in her direction. 

Natalie just laughed and blew a kiss before closing his bedroom door behind her. 

* * * * *


	7. Only So Much You Can Take

**A.N:** It's been a while; I know. Since I've started school, time has been scarce but I love this story and I will finish it. It's just gonna take a while. I hope you're still reading, and still interested. :)

* * * * *

**It Had To Be You  
by inmyeyes   
07 : Only So Much You Can Take**

Running a towel through her wet hair, Rory gingerly walked into the kitchen, not wanting to bump into her mother. After last night's outburst, she had retreated into her room where she proceeded to lay in the dark and stare at her ceiling for a long while. She tried to rationalize her unnecessarily harsh words and tried to blame it on the unsettled feeling that had taken residence in her stomach- a feeling that she attributed to the DuGreys' surprise appearance and subsequent matchmaking during dinner. Still, she told herself, that was no reason for what had transpired the night before. Things had been progressively getting better between them and now, they were back at square one. 

A part of her felt guilty; she should have forgiven them both by now but she hadn't been able to let go of the anger and resentment she felt over the long-held secret. Instead, she let it fester within her… and she let it affect her life too much. 

It had come to a point where she _wanted_ to move past it and let bygones be bygones… but she just didn't know how. She had been so angry at Lorelai for so long that trying to rebuild their relationship seemed like a foreign idea to her. She had been forced to be by herself and learn to depend on no one else that she wasn't quite sure how to let herself trust again. 

Rory breathed a sigh of relief when she found the kitchen empty. Switching on the coffee machine, she let the whirring sound fill the emptiness as she decided which course of action to take. Certainly, the obvious thing to do was to apologize; but the streak of Gilmore stubbornness was legendary. As she watched the black liquid slowly drip into the pot, she decided to play it by ear and see what would happen. 

* * * * *

"Rise and shine, sweetheart," Natalie chirped, as she energetically bounced on the large bed. 

Tristan's head emerged from the mass of blankets, his hair tousled and his eyes still blurry with sleep. "God, I hate morning people!"

Natalie grinned and bounced harder on the mattress. "It's a beautiful day. Wake up!"

Stifling a yawn, he turned on his side and burrowed deeper into the blankets. "The day doesn't start til noon for me."

The young girl stopped moving and went into her next tactic- tugging the blankets away from her brother. "_Tris_-tan!"

A loud groan sounded as the tug-of-war continued. "What the hell are you so perky?" He yanked the sheets sharply and pulled them tighter around himself. His eyes narrowed suspiciously when he noticed the glint in Natalie's eyes. "You had those muesli bars, didn't you?"

"What muesli bars?" she feigned ignorance, her eyes wide with innocence.

He didn't buy one bit of her act. "Those muesli bars that make you act as though you're high on sugar and caffeine."

Natalie smiled cheekily. "And if I did?"

He half-heartedly pushed her off the bed before nestling himself back into his cocoon. "I really should remember to lock my door."

A giggle, then, "Okay, brother dear, go back to sleep. I'll just give a certain Miss Gilmore a call and tell her that-"

He instantly sat up, glaring at her. "Don't you dare, Natalie!"

She just winked. 

Sighing, Tristan reluctantly got off his bed and the words 'evil' and 'sister' were muttered as he followed Natalie. 

* * * * *

She rubbed her cold hands, waiting for someone to answer the door. Looking around her, she could not believe that she had come to this- seeking refuge at her grandparents' house in order to avoid her mother. Her eyes were on the white blanket of snow that covered the front lawn; a sight that only served to remind her of the snowball fights during her childhood and all those hours of snowman-making. 

Turning around at the sound of the lock clicking, Rory saw her grandmother at the door. "Grandma!"

"Rory," Emily began, her brow furrowed in puzzlement, "What are you doing here?"

She smiled brightly, hoping that she would be able to lie convincingly. "I was just in area and decided to drop by."

Emily nodded her acceptance, although her arched brow told Rory that she wasn't quite convinced. "Well, your grandfather will be glad to see you. He mentioned something about a first edition of _Jane Eyre_."

Rory's eyes widened. "Really?"

* * * * *

"Could you please stop watching me?" Tristan snapped. 

"I have nothing else to do."

He waved his hand towards the living room. "Go watch TV, call your friends, go out… do something else!"

Natalie just shrugged.

"I feel like a science experiment," he mumbled, as he picked up his fork and continued to eat his lasagne. 

Natalie snorted. "Yeah." She eyed him. "It's like watching a pig inhale whatever crap it eats."

"Hey!" Tristan protested. 

She made a face and threw a balled-up napkin at him. "Could you please keep your mouth closed while you're chewing? It's not attractive; you can't expect to win Rory that way."

Tristan rolled his eyes and swallowed the mouthful of pasta before speaking. "I'm amazed at how you bring Rory into every topic of conversation."

"It's a gift."

"It's a nuisance," he corrected. 

"No, it's-"

The clicking of heels against the marble floor silenced the duo.

"Hello children," Lauren said airily as she strolled to the fridge and took out a bottle of Perrier. 

Tristan and Natalie simultaneously rolled their eyes, annoyed by how they were still referred to as 'children'. "Hello mother," they chorused.

When Lauren made her way to the table to seat herself, Natalie immediately stood up. "Oh my," she exclaimed in an overly agonized tone, "I forgot that I have to call Alicia!" Before Tristan could protest, she scurried out of there, turning back to toss her brother an apologetic smile. 

Cursing under his breath, Tristan kept his eyes on his plate and concentrated on chewing evenly. He fully intended to ignore his mother's presence but his plans were dashed in the worst of ways. 

"Rory's wonderful, isn't she?" were her opening words.

Tristan wanted so badly to bash his head against the mahogany table; it seemed like his entire family was fixated on that woman whose existence he had resolved to try and ignore. He looked up and saw the expectant look in his mother's eyes. "She's nice," he answered, his tone nonchalant. 

"She's pretty, intelligent, has a good job _and_ has good bloodlines. Very suitable." Lauren nodded emphatically. 

It was much easier to pretend to not understand her. "Suitable?" 

"Yes," she said pointedly, "_suitable_."

He made her wait while he ate another spoonful. "Suitable for what?"

Lauren gave a mock sigh of annoyance. "Suitable for _you, _of course."

He nodded and he could see her delight at his agreement. Although his expression was agreeable, his voice was cold when he said, "You mean suitable for bearing future DuGreys, don't you?" Before she could say anything, he pushed his plate away and stood up. "I'm suddenly not hungry anymore."

* * * * * 

"Did you have a nice time at dinner last night?"

Rory set her glass of juice back on the table. "Last night?"

"Yes, the dinner with the DuGreys," she clarified. "Tristan's a fine young man."It was clear which direction Emily wanted to take the conversation in. 

"It was a nice dinner."

"You didn't mention that Tristan once went to Chilton with you."

She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. "It was a long time ago."

"So," Emily leaned forward, smiling, "what do you think?"

"About what?"

"About you and Tristan." Her smile widened. "Go on, you can tell me."

Rory had to laugh. "There's nothing to tell Grandma."

"Nonsense, I saw the way he was looking at you."

She shook her head in disbelief. "What are you talking about, Grandma?"

Emily leaned back again and sighed. "All right, if you don't want to tell, it's fine."

"Grandma, you're being impossible."

The comment was ignored and Emily went on as though Rory hadn't said anything. "It's just that Tristan seems like a good man and you've been alone for too long."

Rory didn't refute. "There's nothing wrong with being alone."

"No, there isn't." A pause, then, "But I worry about you sometimes. We all do; you're missing out on so much, Rory. And you deserve to have everything."

Hearing those words, her eyes dropped to her lap as she recognized the truth in what was being said. 

Emily was perceptive enough to catch the forlorn expression that overtook her granddaughter's face and reached out to lightly touch her shoulder. "Dear, I don't mean to upset you."

Rory caught her grandmother's eyes and tried to smile reassuringly. "It's all right." 

A relieved smile came forth before Emily exclaimed, "Where's Richard? I told him that we're having tea but he's still cooped up in that office of his." She stood up, "I'll go fetch him."

Once her grandmother was out of the room, Rory sighed heavily and wondered why it seemed like her life was crumbling around her.

* * * * *

"So what did she talk to you about?"

He didn't bother looking up and kept on drawing. "What do you think?"

"Rory?"

"Ding ding ding, give the girl a prize," was his sarcastic answer. "This whole family is obsessed with her."

"Especially you," Natalie quipped.

He shot her a dirty look. "Nice of you to bail on me, by the way."

"I've learned the art of self-preservation from you."

A few moments later, when Tristan looked up, Natalie was dozing off on his bed. "Nat?"

Sleepily, she opened her eyes. "Yeah?"

"You all right? Have you eaten yet?"

She curled up on her side and nodded. "Yeah, I ate a sandwich just now."

"You look exhausted."

She shrugged, her eyes closing. "I've had a long day. I woke up at 6."

"Whatever for?"

Natalie shrugged again.

Sighing, he got up and shook her awake. "Nat, c'mon… I'll walk you to your room. You should get some sleep."

She made a sound of protest but allowed him to drag her up. Leaning against him, she slowly trudged to her room that was a few doors down. When she was safely in bed, Tristan tucked the blankets around her and lightly kissed her forehead. 

"Tristan?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you," she mumbled, hugging her pillow closer to her.

He smoothed back her hair and smiled, although the expression was tinged with worry. "I love you too."

* * * * *

"Tristan."

From his perch in the middle of his bed, he looked up and met his father's hard gaze. Quickly, he dropped the pencil in his hands and dragged a pillow over his sketchbook before standing up. "Father," he answered in the same emotionless tone. 

Stephen remained standing in the doorway, making no move to enter the room. "I heard that your mother talked to you earlier."

He merely inclined his head in response, silently telling him to get to the point.

"I don't understand why you insist on being so difficult."

Tristan resisted the urge to comment and crossed his arms, waiting for the command that was sure to be issued. 

"You need to find a wife and get married. And Rory's a good choice."

Still, silence remained on his part. 

"Tristan, you-"

His jaw unclenched and he unfurled his arms- and his temper. "Don't you dare tell me who I should marry."

"Tristan-"

He vehemently shook his head. "_No_. You don't get a say in that. I'll get married if and when I want to. As to whether Rory's a good choice or not, that's for me to decide." He narrowed his eyes in anger. "You get no say. At all."

Stephen didn't answer but his brow rose in challenge. A long look was exchanged before the elder DuGrey turned around and walked away. 

* * * * *

'_What the hell am I doing here?_' she asked herself for the hundredth time. She lifted her head from the steering wheel and peered at the large house that lay across the street. 

The Tristan-onslaught had continued once Richard joined them for tea. It was as though she was stuck in some alternate universe where everyone loved Tristan. It was weird… and uncomfortable to realize just how much attention her grandparents paid to her non-existent love life. And they were so hell bent on the idea of a Tristan and Rory that she didn't have the heart to tell them how she just didn't think that it would ever happen.

Finally, when she couldn't take anymore, she made her excuses and left. But not before she saw the expectant and encouraging looks. 

Which was why she found herself dialing Paris' number moments later and that was how she found herself parked across the DuGrey house, wondering what in heaven's name she was doing there. 

She had an crazy idea. An _insane_ idea. But it was the only way out she could see. And damnit, she would take any way she could. 

It was stupid, he wouldn't go along with it and she would humiliate herself by asking him; but she was going to do it. Taking a deep breath for courage, she swung her car into the driveway, jumped out and rang the doorbell before she could change her mind. 

* * * * *

As his arms sliced through the warm chlorinated water, he felt the aggression that had been building up inside of him slowly fade. Making a turn and pushing off against the wall, he let the steady motions calm him; but his mind was still churning. 

Between thoughts of last night and thoughts of his conversations with his parents- thoughts that he realized all revolved around a certain brunette- his brain hadn't been able to rest. And all he wanted was some kind of peace, for however long he could get it. 

He couldn't believe the nerve of the man! He was used to his father's highhanded ways and had come to learn to fight it effectively in his own way; but this… _this _took the cake for being the most presumptuous thing ever. It was one thing to try and determine which college he went to, which course he'd take… but to actually interfere in what could possibly be his life's happiness was just too much for him to handle. 

Not that Rory was possibly his life's happiness, he quickly reassured himself as he took a measured breath before stroking through the water. _Marriage_ could possibly bring him happiness. Sure, his parent's weren't exactly the best example of that but from observing his grandparents and well, other happily married couples, he learned that love and marriage could be his salvation; could be that missing thing that had eluded him from complete and utter happiness. 

When he finished swimming four lengths of the pool, he came up for air… and saw Rory standing by the side of the pool.

* * * * *

She had to admire the way his strokes smoothly cut through the water- there was a grace about him that was undeniable. She was so intent on watching him that it took a second for her to realize that he had stopped and was now watching her.

"Um… hey," she said awkwardly, tucking a loose piece of hair behind her ear. 

He gave a surprised look but smiled. "Hey."

She tried to keep her eyes from widening when he pulled himself out of the pool; his hair was standing up in blonde tufts, his shorts were hanging low on his hips and her eyes involuntarily followed a droplet of water that trickled down his smooth cheek onto his neck and down his toned chest. Unconsciously, she licked her lips as she watched him walk to a deck chair and grab a towel. 

She finally caught herself when she watched the muscles in his back flex as he rubbed his hair with the towel. Closing her eyes in embarrassment, she silently chided herself for acting like a sex-crazed teenaged girl. She took a deep breath and just managed to look impassive when he turned back to her, the towel slung across his broad shoulders. 

"I don't mean to sound rude, but what are you doing here?"

"I have a proposition for you."

He smirked. "Sounds kinky."

"Can you please get your mind out of the gutter for a moment?" she asked, exasperated.

"Only if you get yours out too," he winked. 

Her eyes filled with mortification as the realization that he _knew_ she had been looking at him- no, that she had been _checking him out_- hit her. "Oh God," she mumbled, covering her face with her hands. 

In three strides, he was standing before her and pulling her hands off her face. "Hey hey, no need to be embarrassed." 

She peeked at him through his fingers, pulling aware that her cheeks were tinged with pink… and more than fully aware that his warm body was only inches away from hers. His warm, _half-naked_ body. At that thought, she groaned and covered her face again, cursing her damn hormones. 

Tristan chuckled. "Rory. C'mon, it's nothing."

"It's not nothing," she protested. "I was checking you out."

He tugged at her hands again; this time he was successful. "It's _nothing_; people check other people out all the time."

"Not me."

His expression was incredulous, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he directed her attention back to the matter at hand. "So, tell me about this proposition."

* * * * *  
  


The sound of the front door closing, followed by an overly-dramatic sigh informed her of Lorelai's return. 

Closing the magazine that she had been mindlessly flipping through, Rory smiled tentatively when she saw a slumped figure drag herself into the living room and onto the couch. "Rough day?"

Her answer was a groan. A few seconds later, Lorelai wearily sat up to face her daughter and smiled grimly. "I have two words for you: soufflé and Sookie."

Rory winced in response, as she remembered the last time Sookie had an incident with a soufflé. "Ouch."

Lorelai leaned back and let her feet rest on the table. "My sentiments exactly."

She saw the exhaustion that clearly lined her mother's face and the observation that her mom wasn't as young as she used to be hit her out of the blue. Quietly, she got up and went into the kitchen and returned moments later with a cup of coffee and a donut in her hands. "Mom?"

"Hmmm?"

"Coffee?" she offered. "Or a donut?"

The offering of both sugar and caffeine immediately livened Lorelai up and she eagerly accepted, letting out a sigh of satisfaction. Through mouthfuls of donut, she whispered her thanks. 

Once Lorelai was energized enough to babble about what had actually happened between Sookie and the errant soufflé, Rory finally found the nerve to bring up what had happened the previous night. "Mom, about last night-"

Dismissively, Lorelai waved her hand and smiled. "Forget about it."

"But Mom-"

"Rory, you're entitled to be angry. I don't blame you for that."

"Still-"

Lorelai shook her head. "As long as you won't be angry forever."

Her eyes met and held and an understanding passed through them. 

"I'm trying, Mom," Rory sighed, raking a hand through her hair. 

"I know you are."

There was a short moment of silence before either of them spoke again. 

"I went to Hartford today," Rory offered, laying back against the couch. 

"What for?"

"I made the mistake of visiting Grandma and Grandpa."

Lorelai winced. "Damn right it's a mistake. Let me guess: they-"

The distant sound of ringing interrupted the conversation and the two women looked at each other. 

"O-kay." Rory looked around. "Where's the phone?"

After some frantic searching (cushions were overturned, magazines were strewn about and some cussing was involved), Rory finally found the phone underneath the couch. 

"Hello?"

"It's me, Tristan." There was a short pause before he said, "Okay, you're on. We'll do it."

* * * * *


	8. Turned Out For The Best

A.N: Either you guys are getting perceptive or I'm becoming predictable but someone kinda got it right. :) Thanks for all the reviews. Also, I wanted to say that the story only takes into account what happened up to "Teach Me Tonight" so for the purposes of my story Rory/Jess never happened. 

**It Had To Be You  
by inmyeyes  
08 : Turned Out For The Best**

_"It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves."  -William Shakespeare_

He wondered – not for the first time- if he had lost his mind. 

She had surprised him, not only by coming to his house but also by suggesting her little plan to get her grandparents and his parents off their backs. Rory had laid it out so rationally that it seemed like a viable, and very smart, solution. 

But he very well knew that going along with her scheme would complicate things. He didn't like complications. Especially women-related complications.  No, he amended silently, _most especially Rory-related complications. Yet, against his better judgement, he had called her the previous night, after hours of deliberation, saying that he would it. _

She had made a mess of his carefully constructed universe when he was 16; now, over ten years later, he was willingly letting her do it again.  The reason? She still fascinated him like she had when they had first met, only this time she was allowing him in. She was holding out her hand and all he had to do was to reach out. And damn, he couldn't resist the temptation.

Yes, he concluded, he had lost his mind. 

* * * * *

"You _what?" Lane screeched, causing the other people in the diner to turn and stare at the pair sitting by the window._

Rory covered her face with her hands. "Lane!"

She smiled sheepishly. "Sorry." 

"I don't want anyone finding out about this."

"Not even Lorelai?" Lane questioned, frowning slightly.

"Not even Mom. _This has to work, and I know Mom will inadvertently do something that will ruin it."_

Lane didn't seem convinced by her reasoning but she let it go. "It's gonna backfire in the end," she remarked. "Things like this always do."

Rory shrugged as she took a sip of her coffee. "I don't think so."

"Things will get messy," Lane insisted.

  
Rory gave her friend a baffled look. "What are you talking about?"

"The messiness where someone's heart gets broken," was her clarification.

Rory laughed disbelievingly. "Broken hearts? That's not gonna happen. Not with Tristan & I."

"Don't sound so sure, Rory. Anything could happen."

"Tristan & I are just wrong for each other," Rory said. "He's hardly the type to fall in love, especially with me. And I _don't wanna fall in love. I don't foresee any problems."_

"That's what I thought when Jess & I started going out."

Rory grinned. "That's probably _why you started going out with him!"_

Lane threw a balled-up napkin at her friend. "Hey!"

"I'm just kidding, you know that."  Rory sobered as her thoughts went back to the issue at hand. "Nothing's bad gonna happen, Lane. We're just gonna spend some time together, that's all."

Lane raised a brow.

"Okay, that's _not all. We'll spend some time together… maybe act a little affectionate with each other and," she grinned mischievously, "let people think what they want."_

Lane sighed. "I still think something's gonna go wrong. It can't be that simple."

"It is," Rory adamantly said. "It's the perfect plan."

* * * * *

A knock on her bedroom door jostled her out of her thoughts. Sitting up, she called "Come on in, the door's open."

The door swung open partially to reveal her brother. "Hey Nat."

 "You're looking sharp," she commented, taking in his khaki pants and white shirt. "Going out with Rory?" she joked. 

An amused smile lifted the corners of his lips as he leaned against the door frame. "Actually, yes."

Natalie jumped up, her eyes wide with shock. "You're lying."

He smirked. "Nope, we're having dinner."

"How did you manage that?"

Tristan laughed, enjoying her surprise. "I called her and asked if she would have dinner with me."

"And she said yes?" 

He rolled his eyes. "No, she brutally rejected me." 

Natalie laughed. "Well, have fun."

A wiggle of his brows, then, "Oh, I will." Moments later, a shout of laughter escaped him as he ducked the cushion that had come flying at him. Not able to keep from smiling, he walked over and sat at the edge of her bed. 

"You know, Rory would hurt you with a fork before you'd have that kind of fun with her," Natalie remarked.

He had to laugh. "I wouldn't be surprised." He then carefully scrutinised her face. "You're looking chipper today."

Her face scrunched up. "Chipper? Couldn't you have found a better word to use." As he was about to protest, she went on, "But yeah, I know I look good." 

Tristan snorted, ruffling her hair affectionately as he got up. "Well, since you're obviously in a _chipper mood, I'll be on my way." Before he closed the door, he said, "And if __they ask where I am, let them know."_

Natalie gave a mock-salute. "Yes, sir."

As the door clicked shut, she had the urge to look out her window to see if pigs were flying. Tristan was going out with Rory Gilmore. 

* * * * *

Nervous. She was feeling nervous, which didn't make sense to her. She had no reason to feel nervous. Yes, she was going out with Tristan; but, she told herself, it was more of a friendly outing as opposed to an actual date. 

She examined her appearance in her full-length mirror. After much consideration (and some input from Lane), she had decided on a gauzy white dress with thin straps that skimmed her knees. With her hair down and minimal make-up, she looked a lot like the 17 year-old that she had been. She smiled at that thought. 

She cast a glance at the clock- she had another 10 minutes before Tristan arrived. 

Tristan. She had little doubt that he would look good. She couldn't remember a time when he _didn't look good. All through high school and ever since they met again, his appearance had always been impeccable and very appealing to her. She was not one who was easily susceptible to good looks but something about Tristan just hooked her in. _

Since his telephone call the previous night, she had been thinking about the scheme she had put into motion. It was a simple idea, really; one that she had gotten while her grandmother had been rambling on about how well-suited the two of them were. She knew that the DuGreys and her grandparents were eager to see the match and would jump at any indication that a relationship was being forged. 

The plan was to let them _think that something was happening, as she had explained to Tristan. They would spend some time together, make sure their elders knew about it and if needed, be affectionate in their presence. Then let them assume whatever they want. _

The chime of the doorbell shook her from her thoughts. Taking one last look in the mirror, she smoothed down her dress, grabbed her purse and walked into the living room. 

_* * * * *_

"Is that your mother peeking out from behind the curtains?" he asked as he twisted his key in the ignition and heard the car roar to life. 

Discreetly, she turned her head in time to see the curtains in her room yanked to the side. "Yes, she definitely is."

"So I take it she didn't respond well when she found out we're going out?"

Rory shook her head wryly. "I'm sure you didn't miss her shocked expression. And I _know you didn't miss the fact that she called you evil."_

"Definitely didn't miss the evil comment." He turned to smile at her once he had backed out of the driveway. "She's an interesting woman."

"Oh, you're being kind," Rory matched his smile. "Interesting is the understatement of the century.

Not taking his eyes off the road, he said lightly, "Well, at least now I know where you get it from." He didn't need to look at her to know that her expression was indignant. 

"Hey, I'm not as crazy as she is," Rory protested. "I'm sane compared to her."

Tristan threw a smirk her way. "That remains to be seen."

An outraged gasp followed by a howl of pain from Tristan was heard as Rory retaliated by hitting his arm. 

His lower lip protruded in a pout as he rubbed his sore arm. "Wow, you sure pack a punch for such a little thing."

Rory crossed her arms, giving him a warning look. "Wow, you sure are on a run tonight."

As he got onto the freeway leading them to Hartford, he gave her a sidelong look. "What can I say? You bring out the best in me."

Laughing at his glibness, she settled herself comfortably in the soft leather seat. A smile played about her lips as she watched him; and she thought that maybe spending time with him wouldn't be so bad after all. 

* * * * * 

There was a terse silence as the two people on the line contemplated.

Rubbing her eyes wearily, Lorelai let out a sigh. "Things are getting better, but I know that she's still holding it in. And now tonight, she's out with Tristan."

"Who's Tristan?" was Chris' puzzled question. 

After filling Chris in about what had been happening, Lorelai said, "I see so much of us in them."

"And that's bad?"

"Chris!" 

Laughter travelled through the phone line. "Still, it wouldn't hurt for Rory to get out some."

"I know, I know," Lorelai agreed. "I'm just being paranoid."

There was another short silence before Chris suggested, "Maybe I should come down."

"What-"

He went on as though she hadn't said anything. "Maybe we should all sit down and talk about this. That's the only way we get can past this."

Uncertainty tinged her tone. "I don't know, Chris. This could backfire."

"Or it could make things better."

As Lorelai was about to answer, a beeping noise sounded. "Hold on, I've got a call on the other line." Without waiting for a response, she clicked onto the waiting call. "Hello?"

"Hello Lorelai."

Inwardly, she suppressed a sigh. "Mom, what can I do for you?"

"Is Rory there? I'd like to speak to her."

"No, she's not at home. She's out."

"Out?" Emily sounded pleased. "With who?"

"Tristan."

"Tristan DuGrey?"

Lorelai rolled her eyes. "Yes, mother. Tristan DuGrey."

"All right then. Ask her to call me back, will you?"

She could just imagine the satisfied smile on her mother's face. "Sure Mom."

Clicking back to Chris, she said without preamble, "Maybe coming down would be a good idea."

* * * * *

Dinner had been a casual and comfortable affair. He had brought her to a little bistro that served great pasta and even better coffee. They had talked candidly of their high school days, shared tid-bits about their jobs but there was a certain unspoken rule that they wouldn't delve into matters that were too personal. Instead, they argued incessantly over books, movies and music. In fact, now that she thought about it, the dinner had a 'first date' quality about it. She didn't want to think of the fact that it technically _was a first date. _

Yet, there was nothing 'first date' about their comfort level. They were comfortable with each other; something that surprised her since she thought that her attraction to him would cause her to act awkwardly. Surprisingly, she found that she trusted him and didn't think twice about touching him. She readily accepted when he had offered his arm to her and while they were talking, she sometimes found herself reaching out to touch his hand or his arm. 

And now, she didn't think twice about leaning against his side. 

As she pulled her coat closer to her to ward off the chill, she tilted her head up to glance at him. With the light from the street lamp bouncing off his sharp features, she became more aware of the hand he had laid on hers, the warmth emanating from his body and the light smell of his cologne. 

Absently, she moved even closer to him and mumbled, "You smell good."

His fingers that had been playing with hers stilled. Then he lifted his arm and draped it over her shoulder. "So, we've been making small talk all night. Let's-"

Rory pulled away slightly. "I hardly think that our loud and heated argument about J.D. Salinger counts as small talk."

Tristan laughed as he remembered how involved that discussion had been. "Okay," he conceded. "But we've definitely steered clear of personal matters."

She shrugged. "Well, we're still trying to get to know each other."

"Yet, you're comfortable enough to lean against me," he pointed out. 

Embarrassed that he had noticed, she pulled away abruptly, using her curtain of hair as a shield against his perceptive eyes. But before she could pull away completely, the arm around her shoulder tightened. 

"Hey," he said softly. "I didn't say that I didn't like it."

Sighing, she let him drag her back to her previous position snuggled next to him. "I'm usually not this clingy," she mumbled. She felt him lean his head on hers. 

"I didn't peg you as the clingy type either. But," and she knew that he would say something teasing, "you can cling to me any time you want."

She pinched his side in response and giggled when she heard his yelp. "You're incorrigible, you know that."

"Thank you," was his mock-gracious answer. 

In the silence that followed, Rory took in her surroundings. The smell of freshly-cut grass lingered in the cool night air, the lamps that cast shadows and light in equal parts creating a hazy vision, the well-kept plants and the beautiful gazebo they were sitting on. 

"I can't believe you have a gazebo in your garden," she commented. 

"Thank my mother," was his dry reply. His voice softened as he went on. "When my parents first got married, his father was apparently madly in love with my Mom. She loves, or rather loved, the outdoors and she spent a lot of time working on the garden… and the story goes that when she was pregnant with me, my dad had this built as a gift for her."

"It's hard to think of this as a gift of love after meeting your parents," she said.  

His laugh sounded hollow. "I know."

"Do you get along with them?" she asked, somewhat cautiously. 

"As well I can. It was easier when I was younger and didn't have a mind of my own."

Instinctively, her hand reached for his. 

"But once I got carted off to military school, things became worse."

Sensing that he didn't want to say any more, she switched to another topic. "How was military school anyway?"

"I survived," he answered with a small smile.

Her eyes widened. "That bad?"

He laughed. "It wasn't that bad."  An introspective look entered his eyes. "But for a kid like me who had had everything at his feet, it was a shock." His eyes dropped to their hands and when he smiled, she wasn't sure if it was because of what he saw or if it was something else. His gaze came up again as he said, "I guess it turned out for the best."

She shuddered dramatically. "Yeah, who knows what might have become of you had you stayed at Chilton." 

Their eyes met and Tristan smiled at the teasing light in her eyes. "Well, I might have worn down your defences eventually."

Rory shook her head, laughing lightly. "I don't think so."

"No?"  He raised his brow. "I thought that you were warming up to me."

"In your dreams, mister!"

He squeezed her hand. "Yeah, I was probably hallucinating."  
  
Their shared laughter rang in the air. 

"This is probably a bad question to ask," Tristan began, sounding unsure. "But what happened with you and Dean?" When she didn't say anything, Tristan silently cursed himself for bringing it up. "Rory, I'm sorry. I shouldn't-"

She waved her hand dismissively, telling him that she didn't mind. "We broke up just before we went off to college," she replied. "After you left, things steadily went bad 'cos I started to spend time with my friend, Jess."

"Let me guess," Tristan said dryly. "He got jealous."

"Yeah. Then Jess & I got into a minor car accident and he got sent back to New York. And somehow, we re-built our relationship until just the summer before college when we mutually decided to end it."

"That's a long time to be with someone," he commented.

"Yeah," she agreed.

Looking down at her, he caught the wistful look in her eyes and had to quell the rising jealousy in him. As it always had been, he had no reason to feel jealous; Rory was never his. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.  Deciding to move on from the subject of Dean, he asked, "So what happened with Jess?"

"Nothing. We met again during Christmas break of my freshman year when he was visiting his uncle, Luke. Whatever there had been between us had fizzled out over time and we've been friends ever since." A grin curled her lips. "And now, he's marrying my best friend, Lane."

"How _Dawson's Creek," he laughed. As she was about to protest, he suggested that they head into the house. "We'll get you a cup of coffee and then I'll drive you home."_

"You're using the coffee card already?" she kidded. 

As they walked towards the house, he kept his arm around her. "Well, I figured that I can probably use that card over and over again."

"Wow, you learn fast," Rory complimented, giving him a smile as he pushed open the door leading to the kitchen and allowed her to enter first. She then halted so abruptly that he almost bumped into her. Automatically, his arms snaked around her waist in an attempt to steady them both. And when he looked up, he realized why she had stopped so suddenly. Unwinding his arms from around her, he reached for her hand instead and gave a reassuring squeeze. As he led her to the coffee maker, he said drolly, "Hello mother."

"Tristan," Lauren admonished lightly, "You didn't tell me that Rory was here."

Reaching for a travel mug, he poured the coffee into it. "We had dinner and then came here to talk."

"How lovely." Lauren positively glowed with satisfaction. She turned her attention to Rory. "Why don't you have dinner with us tomorrow? We'll be glad to have you."

Rory tried to find a way to politely decline but before she could do so, Tristan cut in. "Sorry Mom, but we already have plans for tomorrow."

Lauren looked both disappointed and pleased. "Oh well, some other time then."

"Well, we have to get going, I'm driving Rory home," Tristan said, passing the mug to Rory and leading her out of the kitchen. 

Rory's manners forced her to be amicable. Smiling, she said, "Bye Mrs. DuGrey, it was nice to see you again."

"Likewise, dear," she replied, smiling brightly. 

* * * * *

Instead of heading straight to the Gilmore house, they found themselves at yet another gazebo- this time, the one in the centre of Stars Hollow.

Sitting beside each other, they both looked out onto the empty street. A comfortable silence enveloped both of them only to be broken when Rory asked in an amused tone, "So, we have plans tomorrow?"

Grinning, Tristan turned to her, admiring the way her blue eyes seemed especially bright and the way her smile lit up her face. "Well, seems like it. What do you wanna do?"

She shrugged. "I'll think of something."

"Should I be scared?"

"You should be," Rory advised, seeing the amused glint in his eyes. 

"You know, I had doubts about this plan of yours. But I think it's gonna turn out fine."

She smiled. "Me too."

* * * * *

A.N: Since it's my birthday today, feedback would be nice. Heh. And while I'm being shameless, I might as well plug a new elite GG fic site called Proud & Prejudiced which you can find at http://www.fanshoot.com/proudandprejudiced . If you haven't been there, you should definitely take a look. :)


	9. The First Move

A.N: Thank you for all the birthday wishes and the reviews. :) I can't say anything about Natalie without giving it away but I will say that she is not pregnant. Neither is she suffering from an eating disorder. Heh. I think I'm settling into a routine with writing this so you should be able to expect an update every two weeks or so. 

EDIT: Minor typing mistake. Thanks Trixie, for pointing it out. :) Rory's palm pilot is Fred. 

**It Had To Be You  
by inmyeyes  
09 : The First Move**

As she shut the front door behind her, she had the absurd urge to sigh dreamily. Instead, she settled for a broad grin. The grin remained intact as she moved further into the house, and she was forced out of her reverie when she bumped into her mother. When she noticed her mom's knowing smile, she inwardly groaned, realizing that she might as well have given in to that impulse to sigh. 

"Good night Mom," she called out breezily, praying that Lorelai would get the hint and leave her to her thoughts. But she knew better; her mother was not one who paid attention to subtleties. 

"You're looking like the cat that ate the canary," she commented, raising her brow. 

"I may love my chicken, but birds are off limits to me."

"Things went well with Tristan, then?"

Rory feigned nonchalance. "Reasonably well."

Mischief glinted in the elder Gilmore's eyes. "So well that it warranted a good night kiss, huh?"

"Mom!" Rory's jaw dropped. "I can't believe you!"

"No, I wasn't watching through the curtains." She didn't think Lorelai's grin could get any bigger but it did. " But you just proved my theory right, dear."

Rory shook her head exasperatedly but Lorelai saw the amused tilt of her lips. "Good night Mom."

She let out a low chuckle once her bedroom door was closed behind her. Leaning against it, she finally let her mind digest the last few minutes of her night with Tristan. After about half hour of sitting at the gazebo, arms wrapped around each other, Rory had reluctantly called it a night after a quick glance at her watch which told her that it was well past midnight. She had insisted on walking back by herself, but he was determined to walk with her, saying that it would be ungentlemanly of him to let her go by herself. She had not protested. 

The walk back to her house was relatively silent, but the reassuring feel of his hand in hers made any talking superfluous. She had mentally debated on how to end the night; a handshake was a little too formal, a hug was permissible, a kiss on the cheek seemed appropriate and she quickly banished all thoughts of really kissing him. 

But her stubborn mind refused to co-operate and she was taunted with the hazy memory of their first and only kiss from years ago. Snippets of the conversation that preceded the kiss flooded her followed by a cloudy feeling that she couldn't put a name on. She had sneaked a look at him then, swallowing hard when her eyes lingered on his lips. 

When they stopped on her front porch, a wave of nervousness washed over her and she found that she couldn't meet his gaze. She couldn't really remember what it was he had said, but whatever it was, he had made her laugh and the ice was broken and that comfortable feeling that she had experienced all night came rushing back. She had thanked him for a nice night, he accepted it and beamed brightly at her and suddenly, she wanted to know what it was like to kiss him. 

So, instead of kissing his cheek like she had planned, she opted for a light kiss on his lips. The contact had been light and sweet; nothing more than a quick brush of their lips but Rory still blushed when she pulled away. She had half-expected him to pull her back to him – she had almost wanted him to- but he didn't. He merely smiled at her, a smile that she noticed reached his eyes, and tenderly caressed her cheek. Then he was gone. 

And she had all but melted into a pile of goo on her front porch, her fingers on her lips as she recalled the warmth and softness of his. 

Throwing herself on her bed, she felt a surge of happiness run through her. She had thought that things with Tristan would be much better than they had been when they were teenagers but she didn't expect things to go this well. 

As she settled herself comfortably on her bed, her last thought was of how handsome Tristan looked when he smiled at her. 

* * * * *

He felt tired, but it was a good kind of tired. On his drive home, he couldn't stop smiling as he thought over all that had happened that night. The talking, the comfort between them and that unexpected kiss at the end… he went over every single moment in his mind, wanting to cherish each moment.

She was every bit as wonderful as he had dreamed her to be all those years ago. She was funny, thoughtful, caring-

"Tristan."

At the sound of his father's voice, his thoughts were abruptly cut off and he contemplated just ignoring the call. 

"Tristan, I'd like to talk to you." The command was clear in his hard tone. 

He felt the insane urge to stamp his foot like a five-year old and run up to his room; instead he merely ran a hand through his hair and let out a huge breath.Entering the living room, he spotted his father seated regally in the armchair, a glass of brandy in his hands. He stayed by the door, his gaze challenging as he waited for whatever it was his father wanted to say to him. 

"I heard from your mother that you were out with Rory Gilmore tonight."

The slight inclination of Tristan's head was the only response given.

"Good, you listened to my advice." Stephen ended his sentence with a self-satisfied smile.

Clenching his fists by his side, Tristan took a breath before speaking, "If you say so." Without waiting for a response, he strode out of the room. 

Later, in the safety of his bedroom, he let loose a string of expletives that would have made a sailor blush. When he finally felt like all his anger was spent, he grabbed his sketchbook, his charcoals and sat down to capture the night's highlight- the look on Rory's face when she pulled away from kissing him. 

* * * * *

After dodging countless questions from her ever-inquisitive mother, Rory breathed a sigh of relief once Lorelai finally left for work. Enjoying the silence that enveloped her, she decided to catch up on work that she had missed. It took her a few minutes to locate her trusty palm pilot, Fred; it had been a few days since she actually used it, something that surprised her once she realized it as Fred was usually practically glued to her.

Looking through her calendar, a rush of disappointment filled her; she only had 4 days left before she had to return to the hustle and bustle of New York. At that thought, she was reminded that it had been a while since she had chatted to Samantha. 

It took her another few minutes to locate the phone, and once she found it buried under a pile of dirty laundry, she immediately dialed the number she knew by heart and waited for the person on the other line to pick up. 

"New York Times, Samantha Lee speaking. How can I help you?"

"Good morning, Miss Lee. I'd like to lodge a complaint," Rory said, trying not to giggle. "It seems like you haven't bothered to give your friend, Rory Gilmore, a call."

A loud sigh sounded. "Well," Sam began, "unlike some people, I've been busy trying to meet deadlines."

Rory laughed. "I'm sorry, Sam. I can't imagine how hell-ish it is."

"You know what you can do to make it up to me?" She went on without waiting for an answer, "You can come back to work."

"But Sam," Rory said, striving to sound overly distressed, "Ed would _kill me if I come back before my week is up."_

"Yeah well, _I'm dying under the piles of work here." Samantha groaned. "How are things on your end? Getting all that rest that Ed prescribed?"_

All the drama between her mom and herself as well as the Tristan issue came to mind. "Yeah, I guess so," she said wryly. 

"Rory, tell me."

Rory laughed. "You know me too well."

"Yeah, it's a curse," Sam joked. 

"Well," Rory wasn't sure what to say, "I'm kinda… well, I'm kinda seeing someone." 

There was a short silence before there was a squeal of happiness. "Wow. That's great. Who is he?"

"His name is Tristan," Rory offered. "We went to Chilton together."

"Chilton, huh? I don't remember you telling me about someone named Tristan."

"That's because I didn't."

"Well, obviously, you should have."

Rory had to grin. "Yeah, _obviously." _

She heard the muffled sound of cursing and Sam's voice came over the line a few seconds later. "Damnit, my computer decided to hang _again," she sighed. "I need to do damage control."_

"Good luck, I'll probably see you when I get back."

"Oh, you definitely will. And be prepared to share details!"

* * * * *

"So I hear through the ever-reliable grapevine that you were out with Rory."

Tristan stifled a groan. Oh God… is there really no one else to gossip about but me?"

Paris took a long sip of her iced tea before smiling knowingly. "So, it _is true." She shook her head, sounding resigned when she said, "I'm friends with both of you, yet I hear this from Louise."_

He knew better than to refute what she had said. "It was only dinner," was his nonchalant reply.

"Only dinner?" Paris repeated, her tone mocking. "Not when it comes to you and Rory."

Tristan let out a long suffering sigh. "It was completely friendly, nothing more." Raising a brow he offered, "And you can pass on that little tidbit to dear ol' Louise."

He shifted uncomfortably as she regarded him with cool eyes. "I don't understand you, DuGrey," she said finally. "You'd think that years and years of friendship coupled with my excellent deductive skills would have allowed me to figure you out a long time ago. But," she raised her shoulders, her smile somewhat defeated, "you're still a mystery."

Tristan leaned back against the wicker chair, his forehead scrunched in confusion. "What are you going on about, Paris? Do you even have a point?"

"My point is," she said, pointedly glaring at him, "that you're not the kind to go on friendly dinners. Especially with a certain Rory Gilmore."

He pretended to ponder her words for a second before shaking his head. "Nope, still don't see your point."

Paris threw her hands up in frustration and let out a low growl as Tristan struggled not to laugh at her reaction. "I give up. Do whatever you wanna do."

He picked up his glass and lifted it up in a mocking salute. "Don't I always?"

The smirk on his face was her undoing. "You're an arrogant bastard, you know that?"

The smirk widened. "Thank you. My father will be glad to hear that."

"You're going back to New York in a few days, right?" Paris asked. 

"Yeah, Nick called me the other day." He ran a hand through his hair, frowning at the thought of all the paperwork that was waiting for him. "He had the audacity to tell me of all the work I'm missing when _he was the one who insisted on the break."_

He was too preoccupied to notice the look that passed in her eyes. "How is he doing?"

Tristan made a noncommittal sound. "Busy but fine… which is always the case."

"Well-" The shrill ring of her cellphone cut her off and Paris smiled apologetically as she answered the call. "Hello?" She looked up and flashed Tristan a smile as she said, "Hi, Rory."

* * * * *

She jumped up from her perch on the porch steps when she spotted his sleek Porsche sliding into her driveway. Smoothing down her light blue peasant blouse and tugging her jacket tighter around her, she stood smiling as he got out of his car and slowly sauntered to her. 

"Hi," he called out, his smile bright. But it quickly turned cheeky and Rory anticipated the teasing comment that she knew would come her way. "Eager to see me, Rory?"

She shook her head, her dark hair swishing about her as she laughed. "You just had to ruin that nice moment, didn't you?"

His grin was lop-sided as he held out his hand. When her own hand was safely ensconced in his, he tugged her forward and they fell into step. "It's my duty to keep you on your toes," he countered. 

"_Au contraire, I'd say you're becoming predictable."_

He pretended to look affronted. "Predictable? _Moi?" Rory laughed at his horrible French accent. "I don't think so, __ma cherie."_

Once they were seated in his car, the engine purring lightly, he turned to her with an expectant look. "So… where are we going?"

* * * * *

"Turn right here," Rory instructed. "And you can stop just ahead."

And so, they arrived at their destination, barely 5 minutes later. 

"Hmm, you must be planning something exciting," Tristan commented once they were both standing on the sidewalk. "A hardware store. You're not a hardware store kind of girl."

Rory ignored his babbling and reached for his hand, pulling him along with her. "Yup, something very exciting indeed. We're having coffee."

"Okay wait… we're having coffee in a hardware store." A bell sounded as Rory pushed open the door and Tristan blinked in surprise. "Oh. I see."

"Common mistake," Rory said, grinning. She swept her arm in a wide arc. "So, you pick a spot to sit." 

His eyes took in the half-full diner. As he was about to point her to a table near the counter, he spotted the man behind it who was glowering at him. "As long as it's far away from Glowering Man over there," Tristan said, nodding in that direction.  
  


Rory turned to look but when she turned back to him, her eyes were laughing. "That's just Luke. He's been feeding me all my life." She waved at Luke, smiling at him to tell him that Tristan was harmless (although her mind chafed at the idea of linking the word harmless to Tristan), then she led Tristan to an open table near the window. 

Tristan endured the quasi-interrogation that Luke put him through, somehow realizing that Rory meant a lot to the man. He managed to get through it without once breaking his polite expression, although he was aware that Rory was trying hard to hold back her laughter. Once Luke was satisfied with his line of questioning, they ordered burgers, fries and coffee and sat back. 

"Nice man, that Luke," he commented, smiling slightly.

Rory's eyes softened. "He doesn't like to show it but he cares a lot for my mom & me."

"I know," came Tristan's answer. "I could tell." He kept his eyes on her, observing the way she nervously bit on her lip. Not knowing what was wrong but wanting to take her mind off it, he decided to lighten the tone of their conversation. "So, this was your great idea for today? Coffee?"

"Hey," she said defensively. "I'll have you know that Luke makes great coffee."

"I thought that you would have dragged me off somewhere. Bowling, maybe."

"Bowling?" Her voice was incredulous.

"Well," he shrugged. "You were talking to Paris just now."

Her lips curled in a grin. "And why would she have suggested bowling?"

Tristan tried to backtrack. "I dunno… she just might have."

Rory tilted her head, studying him. "You're not telling me something."

"Nope," he grinned back. 

Rory reached for her cellphone in her pocket and held it up. "I'll call Paris and ask if you don't tell yourself," she threatened.

"Okay, okay, I'll tell you," Tristan conceded. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "I'm bad at bowling." He paused dramatically. "No, that's being kind. I _suck at bowling."_

Rory put on a look of mock surprise. "Tristan DuGrey, being bad at something? That's unheard of!"

He leaned forward, his lower lip jutting out in a pout. "I know, it's horrible."  
  


"Well, that's it then. There's a change of plans; we'll go bowling," Rory announced gaily. "There's a bowling alley a few blocks away."

"Didn't you hear me say that I suck at bowling?" 

"Yes," she laughed. "But it's nice to hear it again."

The pout returned. "You're mean."

She winked at him. "And you haven't even seen me bowl yet."

Tristan groaned, covering his face with his hands. 

"What's wrong with him?" Luke asked as he brought their orders. 

Rory merely smiled. "We're going bowling."

Luke reached out and lightly patted the young man's shoulder. "Good luck," he said. 

Rory couldn't stop laughing as Tristan groaned yet again. 

* * * * *

"I beat you!" Rory sing-songed, dancing circles around him.

"How old are you again?" Tristan asked.

Rory stuck her tongue out at him. "You're just a sore loser."

He snorted. "No, believe me, I'm used to getting by butt kicked at bowling."

"I'll never seen anyone throw as many gutter balls as you," she exclaimed gleefully.

"Thanks for your support," Tristan said sarcastically.

Rory smiled and linked her arms with his. "I usually suck at this sort of thing, but it seems like bowling is the only sporty thing I'm good at."

"Sucks for me," Tristan mumbled. "You should cut me a little slack; I've been trying to impress you."

"Impress me?" she grinned. "Yeah, your bowling was real impressive."

"I'm gonna kill Paris," he mumbled under his breath, more embarrassed than angry. 

"It's not her fault," she refuted. "You're the bad bowler."

He rolled his eyes. "God, are you ever gonna let it go?" 

"Nope." Her smug grin fell away as she took in his self-conscious expression. Her smile turned shy as she gently steered him towards the ice-cream parlour a few doors down. "Come on, I'll buy us some ice-cream."

"In this weather?" 

Her smile was so infectious that he found himself smiling back at her. "Yup."

Minutes later, they made their way to an empty bench as Tristan fought to keep the ice-cream from dripping onto his hand. 

"I can't believe you talked me into this."

"I can talk anyone into anything," Rory declared, her grin wide. "I'm talented like that."

Tristan made a disapproving sound. "Talent does not include choosing chocolate."

"As if strawberry is any better," she retorted, sitting down on the bench and biting into her cone. 

"Strawberry is a perfectly respectable ice-cream flavour."

"No," she disagreed. "Strawberry is a fruit. And fruits should not be ice-cream flavours."

"I'm freezing," he whined. 

"Thanks for the newsflash." Her eyes lit up. "Since we're freezing, we can go get some coffee."

"Huh? I think the cold fried my brain cells. Where's the co-relation between cold and coffee?"

By that time Rory had gotten up and when she reached for his hand, he jumped. "Rory, your hand is cold!" He rubbed his hands together, trying to regain feeling in his numb fingers. 

"You're such a baby."

"Bite me."

"No thanks," she said, shuddering. "I don't wanna get rabies."

"You're a such smart ass," he said, allowing her to lead him to wherever it was she was bringing him to.

"Thank you," was her answer, coupled with a gracious smile. Then, she abruptly stopped, causing Tristan to look up.

  
"And we're at Luke's again," he sighed. He saw that Rory was about to say something and held his hand up, cutting her off. "Yes, I know. Coffee."

As they entered the diner, Rory commented, trying not to laugh, "You're like a well-trained puppy."

The dirty look that he sent her way made her laughter bubble over. 

* * * * *

"I can't believe Luke threw us out!" she remarked as she held the door open and gestured for him to enter the house.

"You were the one who was throwing straw wrappers into that lady's hair," he pointed out, taking off his jacket.

"Well, her permed hair was so big that I just had to."

As Rory took his jacket from his hands, he looked around the front hallway, noticing that the house was dark. "Are you sure that your mom won't mind?" he asked, for the third time.

She waved her hand dismissively. "Not at all." 

They walked further into the house and Rory turned the lights on and pointed him in the direction of the living room while she made her way to the kitchen. "Do you want coffee?" she called out. 

Tristan took his gaze off the photos he had been looking at and answered, "Rory, we just had coffee five minutes ago."

Moments later, she emerged from the kitchen, a bottle of water in her hands. "Okay, so that's a no. Is water all right?"

"Yup." He easily caught the bottle that she threw at him. He sat down on the couch and she joined him a few minutes later with a mug of coffee in her hands. 

"So, what do you wanna do?" she asked, regretting her question when she turned to him and saw him playfully leering at her. 

"Let's see now," Tristan said, tapping his fingers on his chin. "I'm in an empty house with a beautiful girl. What could we possibly do?"

Rory tried to pretend that she didn't know that her cheeks were colouring. "Yeah, I have the perfect idea."

His breath hitched as she lowered her lashes and slowly licked her lips; he found himself leaning closer to her. "And what's your brilliant idea, Miss Gilmore?"

She let her gaze meet his and allowed the tension to build before she said anything. "Well…" she trailed off deliberately, knowing what he was thinking. "We could play Scrabble."

"Scrabble?"

"Yes, Scrabble."

"I wasn't thinking of Scrabble." He leaned closer still to her.

"I know," she whispered back. 

He wanted to kiss her so badly, but a part of him wanted _her to make the first move. "Rory?"_

"Hmm?" Her attention had diverted to his lips. She snapped out of it when she felt his fingers lightly cupping her chin, bringing her gaze to his. 

"Look," he said, hoping that whatever he wanted to say came our right. "I like you, Rory."

She smiled at that. "I like you too."

"I don't wanna mess things up," he continued, his smile wan. "So… if anything's gonna happen, you're gonna have to be the one who makes the first move."

Rory took a second to digest his words. "The first move?"

He nodded, giving in to the urge to stroke her cheek. "Uh huh."

Tristan felt his heart start to race as her hand found its way up his chest. 

"So," her voice was a whisper as she inched closer, "I have to-"

The moment was broken as the front door was opened and a voice called out, "Rory!"

Shaking herself out of her daze, Rory gave a shaky smile but didn't move away from him. 

Footsteps sounded before Lorelai appeared at the hallway, smiling cheerily. "Look who I have with me!"

Rory's jaw fell open in surprise. "Dad?"

Christopher smiled fondly. "Hi Rory."

* * * * *


	10. Matters of The Heart

**A.N: Err, yes. It's been a while. About time, you say. I know. But it's finally here. :) I know that some pieces of the L/C puzzle won't quite fall into place, but all will be clear in due time. **

*** * * * ***

**It Had To Be You  
by inmyeyes  
10 : Matters of the Heart**

_"El alma, por lo que sufre; la vida, por lo que padece; el corazón, por lo que pasa; el  
sentido, por lo que siente."_

_  
Lat., "The soul is measured by how much it suffers; life by how much it endures; the  
heart by how much it grieves; and the senses by how much they feel."   
-Diego San Pedro___

Rory jumped up and ran into her father's open arms. Hugging him tightly, her voice was muffled in his shoulder when she asked, "What are you doing here?" She missed the looks that were exchanged by her parents.

"Your mom told me you were home, so I decided to come down and see you." He pulled away slightly and smiled down at her. "It's so good to see you. It's been months."

Rory's smile was one of child-like exuberance. "Yeah." Taking his hand, she pulled him further into the living room.

All the while, Tristan quietly took in the scene, feeling like an intruder. He was about to excuse himself when Rory turned around, and led her father to him. He took in her bright smile and marvelled, not for the first time, at how beautiful she was. 

"Dad, this is Tristan DuGrey." She smiled at him as she took his hand. "Tristan, meet my dad, Christopher Hayden."

Tristan held out his hand for a firm handshake. "It's nice to meet you, sir."

"Likewise," he smiled. "Call me Christopher."

Tristan turned to Rory. "Um… I think I should get going. You guys probably wanna have some family time together."

She smiled at him. "I'll walk you out."

* * * * *

When they heard the front door click shut, Chris sat down on the sofa, tossing Lorelai a pointed look. "He seems like a good kid."

Lorelai rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "It figures that you'd stick with your own kind."

Chris laughed, not taking her words to heart. "It looks to me like he's a lot less screwed up than I was at that age."

"Nuh-uh." Lorelai shook her head. "Every kid who grows up in that…" she gestured wildly, unable to find words to articulate what she meant to say. Finally, she crossed her arms and tilted her chin, almost daring him to challenge her. "There's something in the water they give to snotty Hartford kids that make each one of us screwed up." 

"Well…"

"And," Lorelai cut him off, "I'm sure it didn't escape your notice that we interrupted something."

He wanted to laugh, but knew that it would only infuriate her further. "Lore," he said, gently, "Rory's not 16 anymore. She knows what she's doing."

"I just don't want her to make the mistakes I did," she mumbled in response.

"Oh, so now I'm a mistake?"

Lorelai's head snapped up and she narrowed her eyes at him when she saw the glint of amusement in his eyes, telling her that he was merely teasing. "Chris!"

All she got in return was laughter. 

* * * * *

"You look really happy to see your dad," he commented. Even in the dim light, he noticed the way her eyes lit up. 

She looked up, smiling. "Yeah, I'm always glad to see him."  Her gaze returned to her feet; somehow she felt… shy around him, especially after what had almost happened before they were rudely interrupted. 

From his position leaning against the side of his car, he watched her and after a moment, he gave in to the urge to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. She smiled her thanks, tilting her head as she observed him. 

"You know," she said, breaking their silence, "I never thought of you as an Escalade kind of guy."

Tristan grinned as he tapped the hood of his car. "I love SUVs. And it's practical."

"Exactly," she agreed. "I expected you to go for a flashy convertible or something."

"I do have a Porsche," he reminded her. 

She raised a brow. "A car for every occasion, huh?"

He laughed. "Something like that. Actually, the Porsche was a birthday present, but this baby right here," he gestured to the Escalade, "I bought with my own money."

Conversation lapsed again and Tristan shuffled his feet, suddenly feeling like a gauche 15 year-old. Taking a breath, he reached for her hand, then waited for her to look at him before speaking, "I had a really great time tonight."

Rory felt her cheeks flush at his words. "Me too," she replied, in barely a whisper. 

He trailed his free hand through his hair, biting back his nervousness. "Can we- Do you want to-" 

She squeezed his hand, understanding what he was asking. It was cute how flustered he was. "Yeah, I'll call you."

His lips curled into a smile. "Okay. Good."

A pause. Then he leaned in and lightly kissed her lips. "I'll see you tomorrow," he whispered. 

She watched him drive away, her mind still caught up in him. Then heaving a sigh, she turned to go back into the house, not knowing what to expect now that her father was here. 

* * * * *

Lorelai eyed her daughter warily when she entered the living room after walking Tristan out. Her previously relaxed posture was nowhere to be seen- instead, she stood tall, with her shoulders thrown back and her head held high. She looked as though she was going into battle; Lorelai suppressed a sigh at the thought. Rory was not going to make this easy. She felt Chris taking her hand in his and giving her an encouraging squeeze. 

"How was your evening with Tristan?" she asked, opting for a non-confrontational start to some kind of conversation. For a minute, she wasn't sure if Rory would take the bait; indeed, Rory saw through her ruse and raised a brow in acknowledge. 

"It was good," Rory finally answered, taking a seat on the vacant armchair. She didn't offer any other information and waited for either of her parents to get the ball rolling. After a few minutes of tense silence in which Lorelai & Chris seemed to avoid her eyes, she took it upon herself to say something. But that something wasn't quite what they expected. 

"You know what? Since we've been able to hold off his conversation for so long now, one more night won't hurt." She was surprised to hear the slight malice in her voice. She thought that she had come to accept what had happened; she was wrong. She tried to smile to take off the sting of her words, then decided that it was best if she just got out of there. 

"Rory."

Her father's quiet but firm tone stopped her in her tracks. She slowly sat down again, keeping her eyes on the floor. The prick of tears made her blink furiously; she didn't want to cry. Still, when she felt the familiar comfort of her father's arms around her, the hurt little girl in her took over. Her loud sobs filled the room as Chris cradled her in her arms, lightly stroking her back and making soothing noises. When she was all cried out, she pulled back a little and gave a shaky smile. Chris just smiled and wiped off her tears. 

Lorelai bit her lip, her heart constricting at the sound of Rory's broken crying. The sight of father and daughter in each other's arms taunted her with images of what might have been, if she hadn't made the choices she made. 

If she hadn't been so scared… 

If she hadn't pushed Chris away…

When Rory was all cried out, she pulled back a little and gave a shaky smile. Chris just smiled and wiped off her tears. 

"You feel any better now?" he asked. 

She laughed a little but answered, "Not really."

"Well, too bad. We're going for a little walk."

Rory offered no protest and allowed to be pulled up and guided out of the house. 

Lorelai watched the two most important people in her life depart and prayed that Chris would be able to set things right. She wanted her daughter back. 

* * * * *

She felt like she was 8 again.

She remembered one of her favourite memories. It was the day before her eighth birthday and she was feeling down because her father hadn't called or sent a card; in fact, she hadn't spoken to him in weeks. Lorelai was trying to cheer her up with details about her party, but all she wanted was for her dad to be there. She even told her mom that, and she was old enough to notice how Lorelai's eyes dulled somewhat at the mention of Chris. But she had been young enough to merely overlook that, concerned only about her father's presence. 

That was why she had been so ecstatic when she answered the door later that evening and saw her father's grinning face. He had scooped her up in his arms, gave her a tight hug and made a fuss about how big she was getting. She laughed and laughed, and her face hurt from smiling so much but she didn't care because her father was there. She had pulled him inside the house, and her excitement reached new heights when she saw the wrapped package in his hand, with the large red bow. After that day, Colonel Clucker became her favourite soft toy _ever. Her attachment to it had never waned over the years; the soft plush toy gave her comfort and nostalgia. In fact, it was holding fort on her bed in her New York apartment. _

She had always had a special bond with Chris, even though she knew that she was her mother's daughter. 

"You wanna start? Or should I?" Chris asked, as they walked towards the town center. They had walked mainly in silence, the arm that he had thrown over her shoulder as their only link. Their first stop was Luke's where they got two cups of steaming coffee. Rory knew that Luke suspected that something was not quite right and before they left, he had given her a rare smile and lightly squeezed her hand. She had been glad for his concern. 

Rory only answered him once they were sitting on the steps of the gazebo. "I guess I should start… but I don't know where."

"Start wherever you want," Chris said encouragingly. 

A pause, then she asked, "Were you guys _ever gonna tell me?" She sighed, nervously twisting the hem of her jacket. "Mom said that she was but-"_

"It was your mother's call. I told her that if she wanted to tell you, she could… and if she didn't, I would respect that."

She turned to him, her eyes welling with tears. "How could you respect a decision like that?"

Chris' smile was resigned. "Marrying me was your mom's choice. And the divorce was her choice as well. So, I thought that telling you was a decision she had to make."

Resting her elbows on her knees, Rory covered her face with her palms. "I'm still angry," she mumbled. 

"I know you are."

"And I feel like she-" Rory paused, not sure if she should go on. 

Chris took in the defeated look in her eyes, suddenly understanding why Rory was as angry as she had been. "Like she took away our chance to be a family."

She bit her lip, feeling horrible for thinking that way but not really able to stop that train of thought. She closed her eyes, and a stray tear fell. 

"Oh, sweetie," Chris sighed, wrapping his arms around her. "You know that's not true."

Rory finally let out the tears she had been holding back as she buried herself deeper into her father's hug. 

He lightly rubbed her back, knowing that she needed a good cry. Leaning his chin on her head, he bit back a sigh. Things were more complicated than it seemed. When her crying finally subsided, he wiped away her tears and returned her shaky smile. 

"Rory," he began, taking hold of her hand. He wanted to try and explain things to her. "There were a lot of problems between your mom and I when we found out that she was pregnant, and marriage didn't solve all those problems. I loved Lorelai then, and I still do." He smiled. "And I know she feels the same. I also know that if we had remained married, we might not have made it." 

"Why not?" Rory's voice sounded small, and there was a pleading quality to it. 

There was a faraway look in Chris' eyes when he spoke. "We were so young and we didn't really know what we wanted. _I didn't know what I wanted. Lorelai would have hated being tied down to me when all she wanted was to get away and I had nothing to offer her." He looked straight at Rory and held her hand tighter, praying that she would understand. "And no matter how much we loved each other, eventually all the resentment would kill that love. Your mom's a smart woman; she knew that would happen. So she cut herself loose."_

Rory's rational side accepted the explanation, but the little girl in her was still crying out. "It could have worked. She shouldn't have just given up."

"It might have worked out," he conceded. His smile was sad when he went on, "But it wouldn't have. I know you don't want hear this, Rory, but Lorelai did the right thing at the time." He pulled her closer. "And we _are a family. Maybe not in the conventional sense… I may not always be here __but we are family."_

"I know, dad," she answered, a smile on her face. The smile vanished with the next question. "Does anyone else know?"

"No, we agreed to keep it all to ourselves. It would just cause too much heartache and unhappiness if any of your grandparents found out."

"Were you angry at her?"

He laughed lightly. "For a while, yes. Then I came to understand why she did it."

"I'm still angry at her," Rory mumbled. "For keeping it from me. How could she keep something this important from me?"

"Because she knew it would hurt you." Chris slung an arm around her as they stood up and started walking back to the house. "You have a reason to be angry but don't shut her out, Ror. She needs you."

"I'll try," she sighed.

* * * * *

The soft sound of footsteps on the wet grass alerted her to his presence. Pulling her jacket closer, she stood up and smiled when his figure was illuminated by one of the hanging lamps. He was dressed in navy sweatpants and a Yale sweatshirt underneath his jacket, his halo of blonde hair mussed from sleep. 

"Hey," she called out softly. "Thanks for letting me come."

He accepted her outstretched hand. "You sounded like you need someone to talk to." He let her lead him up the steps into the gazebo and waited for her to sit down before he asked, "What's wrong?"

"I couldn't sleep," was her response.

"Yes, that's why you called me at 2am and asked me to meet you in my garden," he said, semi-sarcastic. "Out with it, Rory." His tone was stern but he was smiling. "I'm freezing my butt off for you."

Her lips curved into a slight smile at his words. "I just…"she trailed off, tugging at the ends of her hair in exasperation. "I wanted to talk to someone, and you were the first person I thought of."

"Why?"

"I dunno."

He knew that wasn't the real reason but he decided to let it go. "Do you want to go inside the house? It'll be warmer."

She shook her head. "No, I wanna stay out here." She shifted closer to him and hesitatingly wrapped an arm around his waist. When he reciprocated the gesture, she let out a sigh of relief.

"I know we just started this friendship thing, but you know that you can talk to me about anything, right?" he whispered.

"I know." She lifted her head from his shoulder and smiled at him, taking the chance to change the subject. "Tell me about your parents."

He shrugged. "What's to tell? They can't stand each other, I can't stand them and they can't stand me."

"My parents got married in secret when they found out about me," she blurted. "But a few months later, my mom filed for divorce."

He tightened his hold on her, instinctively knowing how hurt she was and wanting to offer comfort.

"She hid it from me… I only found out when I accidentally found the divorce papers." She took a deep breath; she didn't want to cry. "We used to tell each other pretty much everything, and for her to hide this from me… I've been so angry at her, and I dunno what to do anymore."

Tristan turned his body so that he could fully embrace her. "Rory…"

She accepted the comfort he was freely offering; she allowed him to pull her onto his lap as she leaned her head against his shoulder. God, he smelled good and he felt warm and safe. She tightened her grip on him. 

"At least you know that both your parents love you," he finally said. 

"Tristan-"

"No, no." He shook his head. "They don't love me at all. They don't love Nat at all. I _know this." He swallowed the lump in his throat as a distinct memory of his childhood washed over him. "It was my 11th birthday party and even though my dad was away on business, I thought it was the best ever 'cause my grandfather was there and he gave me the best presents." Unconsciously, he fingered the band around his left hand. "And then later that night, I overhead my parents fighting… and well," he shrugged, "he basically said that I wasn't worth anything."_

She leaned closer to him, as though trying to absorb his hurt. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he replied. "I've learned to live with it."

She pulled back, giving him a somewhat confused look. "How can you live with something like that?"

"You just do."

"You're not…" Rory broke off, not sure how to phrase what she wanted to say, or even if she should say it at all. But she took a look at him, and she knew that even if he didn't need to hear it, she wanted to say it. She needed to, because she didn't him to think that he didn't mean anything to her. "Tristan, you're not- I mean, you- you're something to me." She reached out to lightly touch his cheek, feeling a bit embarrassed.

His hand came up to grasp hers and he had the insane urge to kiss her; it was the only way he could fully show her how much her words meant to him. If he were still the 16 year-old he had been, he would have thrown caution to the wind and seized the moment… but he was older now, less rash and he knew that he shouldn't. He didn't want just one stolen moment. Besides, he wanted her to make the first move. He wanted to be sure that she wanted him as much as he did her. Instead, he settled for placing a feather-light kiss on her palm and hoped that his tremulous smile conveyed what he was feeling. 

Deciding that a shift in subject was definitely necessary, he steered the conversation back to the reason why Rory was half-sitting in his lap with her arms around him. "Rory, hear me out, okay?" When she nodded, he went on, "Your parents may not be together, but that doesn't really mean anything in the grand scheme of things. They love you, and they love each other." He tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. "And that's enough."

"Funny you should say that," she couldn't help commenting wryly, "'cause my dad said that sometimes love isn't enough to keep two people together."

"But sometimes, love is what keeps two people, who are physically apart, together," Tristan countered.

"You're not making any sense," Rory laughed.  
  


He rolled his eyes and poked her side, laughing when she jumped in response. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah, scarily enough, I do."

"Lorelai loved your dad too much to let it all fall apart, that's what I think. She would have lost everything."

"I remember she used to tell me that love is a risk. And now, I can't see why she didn't take that risk with my dad," Rory sighed.

"It _is a risk, but she had too much to lose."_

Her brow furrowed. "How much is too much?"

Tristan chuckled. "I dunno, Rory."

She fixed her eyes on him, wanting to watch his reaction as she asked, "Have you ever been in love?"

His laugh sounded hollow to her ears. "Someone once told me that I couldn't love." He shrugged lightly. 

"I don't believe that," she shook her head vehemently. "Everyone has the capacity to love. It's just a matter of giving it away, wanting to give it away."

She missed the wistful look that passed over his face. He didn't know how to answer her, "Well… yeah, I guess. No one's really made me wanna give it away."

Rory smiled at him, and that pesky voice in his head completed his thought, 'No one… except maybe you.'

He was in dangerous territory, and he knew it. Self-preservation, and the knowledge of the havoc Rory Gilmore could cause to his peace of mind, made him ruin the camaraderie between them. "I hate to break this up, but are we done? Or can we at least move inside?" He wriggled a little. "I don't think I can feel my butt."

Rory rolled her eyes, glad that the conversation turned light. "God forbid if something happens to your million dollar ass."

"Damn right," he agreed, winking at her. "I'll have you know that my butt has been the subject of appreciation many times in the past."

"I'm sure." As their playful banter trailed off, she became aware of exactly how close they were. She started to feel self-conscious and slowly stood up. "I should be getting home."

His mouth creased into a frown. He caught her hand and when she looked up at him, she saw the concern in his eyes. "Are you sure you're gonna get back okay?"

"I'll be fine," she said reassuringly.

"Are you still gonna be in Stars Hollow tomorrow?" he asked, once they reached the driveway.

"Yeah," she nodded "I'll be there for another day."

"I have to go back to New York tomorrow." He frowned. "I'll drop by and see you before I leave?"

"You don't have to," she protested, secretly pleased. "I'll call you when I'm back in New York."

"I don't think I can go that long without seeing you," he kidded, pouting. 

"You'll make do," she retorted. "But," and her voice softened, "thanks for waking up in the middle of the night and talking to me." 

"Yeah, well…" he shifted a little uncomfortably under her grateful- and entirely too enticing, he thought- smile. "You're welcome."

Rory took a step forward, then stepped back as though she had a last minute change of mind. After a second of contemplation, she moved towards him again, placing her hands on his shoulders and leaning up to kiss him. It was almost like that chaste kiss she gave him only the night before, but this one was longer and drove him that little bit more crazy; her lips lingering on his as her hands travelled to his neck and rested there. 

Just as she was about to pull away, he rested his hands on her hips and that was all the encouragement both of them needed. Her hands moved into his soft, tousled hair as she allowed him to deepen the kiss. His lips slanted over hers slowly, as though enjoying the taste of her, and when he buried his hands in her hair and pulled her closer, the moan she had been holding back escaped.

The kiss was bone-meltingly slow with an intensity that made her feel light-headed; when he pulled away, she felt like she had thoroughly been kissed. He leaned his forehead on hers, desire swimming in his deep blue eyes as he kept her in his embrace. She couldn't help but smile, and lightly kissed him again. Reluctantly entangling herself from his arms, she got into the car. 

When she pulled out of his driveway, she was still smiling.   
  


* * * * *

A kiss is never just a kiss. 

God, he was certain that Rory Gilmore was out to kill him. Slowly. Maybe, painfully. The first move he had been wanting for finally came, and his self-restraint was so far gone that he just lost himself in her. He heard the warning bells in his head, but chose to ignore them. It was too easy to forget about self-preservation when her lips were parted beneath his and her hands were pulling him closer. The kiss was made all the more sweeter by the fact that she had confided in him. 

Feeling conflicted between wanting to remember and wanting to forget the kiss, he drove his fingers into his hair and turned to his side in hopes of finding a more comfortable position. Sleep couldn't come fast enough. When he finally felt the coaxing fingers of sleep lightly lulling him, an image of Rory's smiling face bathed in moonlight flashed in his mind.

He smiled, letting sleep –and the dreams of her that he was certain would come- take over his consciousness. 

What started off as a way to keep their families off their backs could turn out to be the beginning of something pretty damn good… or something that could only lead to heartbreak. 

 * * * * *


	11. Still On My Brain

**A.N: Wow, it's been a while. Sorry about that- I was stuck in a rut for a really long time. As always, thank you for all the lovely reviews. Hope you guys have fun reading this, although (sadly) nothing much really happens. It's a lot of introspective crap as I get into their heads so I hope I don't bore you. Heh. The pace will pick up in the next one, don't worry. And I'll try not to let too much time lapse before I update again. **

*** * * * *  
It Had To Be You  
by inmyeyes  
11 : Still On My Brain**

The time that he had spent with Rory seemed like a dream that he had abruptly woken up from. When he stepped into his plush apartment, he felt that same uncomfortable feeling he got every time he stepped into the place. He had been living there for almost a year already, but as he looked around, he realized that it didn't look lived-in at all. Sighing, he dropped his duffel bag and hit the 'play' button on his answering machine before lying down on his leather sofa. 

He ignored the first few messages, which were from some of his friends who didn't know he was out of town. He made a mental note to call Nick and was thinking about what he was going to have for dinner when a familiar female voice filled the room. 

"_Tris__-tan!" she sing-songed. "I was bored so I thought, what better thing to do than to harass my wonderful brother." Tristan rolled his eyes at Natalie's chattering. "I'll miss you dreadfully, but luckily for me, I'll see your ugly mug again in about a week. And please, brother dear, don't screw things up with Rory. Ta-ta!"_

He let out a laugh at his sister's audacity but he was glad to hear her sound so upbeat. Although she had tried to hide it, he knew that she hadn't been feeling very well. Before he could start worrying about Natalie, the next message played and another familiar voice sounded.

"Hi Tristan," was her hesitant greeting. "I just- I wanted to tell you again thanks for last night. You helped me clear my head a little." Tristan sat up, a wide smile on his face, as he continued listening. "I'll give you a call when I get to New York- or," she paused, "you call me- whichever. Hope you got home okay. Bye."

He lay back down on the sofa, his mind absorbed with thoughts of Rory. On his drive back to New York, he told himself to stop analyzing everything that had happened between them; he resolved to let nature take its course. But that tiny, hidden insecure part of him rebelled against the thought, telling him that letting nature take its course would eventually lead to disastrous results. So, for the duration of his drive, he was torn between being proactive in his pursuit of Rory or just letting things happen. Then, of course, he chafed at the idea of pursuing Rory because he knew, instinctively, that he'd just be setting himself up for a fall. When he reached his apartment, he was still confused. 

But hearing her voice gave him perspective: yes, he decided, he would just things unfold naturally. It was against his nature to just sit back, but he would do it. Besides, he told himself, he knew that he wanted her and had wanted her for a long time now. 

The only uncertainty was whether _she wanted __him. _

* * * * *

She was glad to be back in New York. New York was nothing like Stars Hollow and she suspected that she would never love the city as much as she loved her hometown; but New York was home in its own way. Even though living by herself had its lonely moments, she enjoyed her independence- from her protective mother, her overly-concerned grandparents and the nosy townsfolk. Being another face in the sea of people was a disheartening thought but for Rory, it had its merits. 

Her trip back home was good for her… and bad at the same time. She was glad and actually very relieved that the problem between her and Lorelai was starting to sort itself out. Before she left, they had a long talk, clearing up the air and hashing out their thoughts and feelings. Her talk with her dad, and later with Tristan, opened her eyes to Lorelai's point of view. Her rational side won, and she found that the anger she had held so close to her heart was slowly dissipating. Anger was replaced with the pain that came with her estrangement with Lorelai. She was ready to smooth things over and to really deal with the history of her parents' relationship. There was a lot of arguing, a lot of crying, a lot of explaining… but it ended well with a lot of hugs. Their relationship was on the mend. 

The bad part about her return to Stars Hollow was that it reminded her of how the path she had chosen in life was taking her away from where she belonged and it reminded her of the things that she didn't want to admit she lacked. The town was so warm and loving; while she didn't miss their protectiveness over her and how gossip traveled at the speed of light, she yearned for the easy acceptance and concern that everyone readily handed out to her. When she talked to Lane, she couldn't miss the way her eyes lit up at any mention of Jess and she was sorely reminded of how very much she wanted to be somebody's somebody. 

And then… there was Tristan. She didn't quite know if she should categorize him in the good or bad column. On the one hand, their burgeoning friendship gave her a reason to smile and, she reminded herself, there was the distinct possibility that their relationship would transcend friendship. And that formed the basis of her confusion: a part of her welcomed the maelstrom of feeling that he evoked in her, but the more guarded part of her screamed caution. With Tristan, she recognized that passion could and would be a big part of the equation. And well, passion had the capability of overriding caution and rationality; Rory definitely was worried about that. 

As she lay down on her sofa and mindlessly switched tv channels, she refused to admit to herself that she was waiting for the phone to ring. Of course, she realized that she could call _him but she reasoned that she had been the one to call and leave a message and so, __he should call her. Rory shook her head and laughed at her somehow faulty logic. She wasn't making sense to herself, a clear sign that she was frazzled and on edge. _

She finally settled on a re-run of _The Simpsons. After a few minutes, even Bart's crazy antics couldn't lift her spirits. There was only one course of action left: Coffee. _

Sighing, she sat up and slipped her feet into her fuzzy bunny slippers before making her way to the kitchen. She leaned against the counter, half-listening to the blare of the television. She was so lost in la-la land that the sound of the telephone jarred her. Her eyes widened in expectation as she practically ran to the living room. As usual, the phone was nowhere to be found. Rory let out a loud growl of frustration and began overturning cushions and magazines, hoping to locate the source of the ringing. 

"Don't stop ringing, don't stop ringing," she chanted, feeling increasingly frantic. The moment the cordless phone was in her hand, she immediately hit the 'on' button. "Hello," was her breathless greeting.

"What took you so long?" 

"Oh," she bit back a sigh of disappointment. "It's only you."

"Wow, I'm feeling the love," Samantha laughed. "It's great that you're so enthused 'cos I'm waiting outside your door with bags of junk food."

Rory wandered back to the kitchen and was glad to see that the coffee had brewed. "You know, there's this new thing called a doorbell. It's a pretty useful device to let people know that you're at their door. " She poured the coffee into her favourite Powerpuff Gurls mug- a gift from her mother, of course- and took a long gulp. 

"Doorbells are so over-rated. Especially those annoying ones that technically aren't bells. You know, the ones that play horrible, cheesy holiday music and they just go on and on. And you're just praying that _someone would open the damn door and cut off the stupid music." _

As Samantha continued her tirade, Rory made her way to her front door and pulled it open. "Hey." She hit the 'off' button on the phone and offered her friend a smile. 

Samantha was leaning against the door frame, a quart of Ben & Jerry's ice-cream in her hand and grocery bags around her feet. She grinned, "Took you long enough." 

* * * * *

He found that silence only made him think, and honestly, he was tired of thinking. And so, he did the one thing that he knew would obliterate any kind of rational thought. He'd get himself drunk. 

As he walked through the doors to Harry's, he took a moment to adjust to the semi-darkness, the rambunctious laughter and the blare of the basketball game that was on tonight. Smiling at a few people he knew, he made his way to the back of the bar, the usual meeting place for him and his friends.  

"Well, look who's here!" came the sarcastic greeting. 

Tristan laughed as he sat on the stool next to his friend. "Hey Nick."

"You didn't tell me you were back," he accused. 

Tristan merely shrugged. "I was going to call you and let you know."

There was silence for a few minutes; Tristan avoided his friend's eyes, knowing that Nick was taking inventory. The silence was broken by the loud cheer that went up from the patrons who were following the game on the tv. 

Nick smiled and shook his head, seeming incredulous. "You met a girl, didn't you? God, you were home for _a week and somehow you got involved with a girl!"_

He didn't try to deny it. There was a loud frustrated sigh, as he rested his chin on his steepled fingers. 

Nick held back a laugh at his friend's forlorn expression, choosing instead to signal to a nearby waiter for another drink. "Who is she?"

Tristan didn't answer immediately, and Nick didn't push, knowing that the details would come forth in due time. When the waiter came to their table with a beer, Tristan reached for the mug and took a long gulp. Then, he finally answered the question.

"Just a girl that my parents tried to set me up with," was his vague answer. 

Nick knew him too well. "Isn't the first time this has happened, so I _know there's more to the story. Who's the girl? Anyone I know?"_

"Her name is Rory Gilmore."

Nick racked his brain, trying to figure out if the name should have any significance. Indeed, the Gilmore name was familiar to him since his late father and late grandfather spoke highly of Richard Gilmore. But the name _Rory Gilmore… his eyes widened as a conversation from years ago came to mind. _

  
  


_"Laura broke up with you?" Nick asked, his tone disbelieving. "I thought you said that everything was going well."_

_His laugh was bitter. "Well, I thought wrong."_

_"What did you do?" _

_Tristan laughed again. "I forgot her birthday." He paused, taking a deep breath. When he spoke, he knew that his voice would tremble. "And apparently, I don't know how to love."_

_Even in his half-inebriated state, Nick knew that despite the nonchalant way Tristan spoke, the words were painful for him to say. He didn't know how to respond, so he just looked away, not wanting to watch the hurt flash in his friend's eyes. _

_"You know," Tristan started, his voice casual, "there was this girl in Chilton… and I think I might have loved her. Or at least I could have."_

_"Really?"__ This was news to Nick; as far as he knew, Tristan had never had a relationship lasting anything more than 2 months and he definitely never said anything about loving any of his girlfriends. _

_"Rory Gilmore," he breathed. "She was- she was everything I never knew I wanted." He smiled wistfully. "I wanted so badly to get a chance to love her, but I never got it." A sigh, then he spoke, sounding resigned, "Maybe it was meant to be that way… since I couldn't have possible given her all the love she deserved."_

Nick wanted confirmation. "You mean… _the Rory Gilmore?"_

"The very same one."

"I'm very sketchy with the details, but weren't you…"

Tristan's laugh was wry. "Yes, I _am crazy about her."_

Nick prodded further. "And the problem is?" 

"The problem is that I _shouldn't be crazy over her."_

Nick raised his mug to his friend and grinned, trying to lighten to the mood. "You were never one to do what you should, Tristan."

His lips quirked in a half-smile. "True."

"So, what's your battle plan?"

Tristan shrugged. "I have no battle plan; I'm just gonna let things be."

This caused Nick to raise his brow. "How very unlike you."

"Well, we're talking about Rory Gilmore here," he pointed out. "I'd think that acting unlike myself would be an asset."

Nick shook his head, marveling at his friend's rationale. "I hope you're right, Tristan. I hope you're right."

* * * * *

As she sat down at her desk, Rory tried to stifle her yawn. She had barely gotten 4 hours of sleep before her alarm clock had unceremoniously taken her away from her peaceful slumber. She woke up to find herself settled uncomfortably on her couch, empty containers and wrappers around her. As she stretched her arms above her head, a bright pink post-it note fluttered to the ground. Squinting to read the almost illegible scrawl, she found that it was a hastily scribbled note from Samantha, saying that she had left about 4 in the morning and that she'd see her at work. 

A long hot shower and four cups of coffee later, she was feeling a little more awake and coherent but seeing the large pile of paper that was on her desk made her want to just plead sickness and go home. But she was never one who would take the easy way out- at least not when it came to her work- so she pulled out her thermos full of coffee and took a drink before gamely looking through all the accumulated work on her desk. 

She was half-way through reading a fax when someone put a piece of chocolate cake in front of her. "Sam, I really don't think that chocolate is a good choice after all the junk we ate last night."

Samantha just grinned and perched herself at the edge of Rory's desk. "You looked as though you needed a little pick-me-up."

Rory returned the grin and held up her thermos. "Well, I have my coffee so all is good."

"Have you read the memo?" 

"What memo?"

Samantha searched through the papers on the desk until she found the one she was looking for. As she handed it to Rory, she said, "There's a Christmas party on the 23rd at the Marriott."

After scanning through the memo, she looked up to see Samantha smiling pointedly. She ignored her friend and said instead, "The Marriott? Wow, that's a little upscale."

She winked. "That's because I'm on the organizing committee this year and I managed to weasel out a larger budget."

"I'm sure it'll be great."

"Of course it'll be great. And _you're going."_

"No, I'm not," Rory disagreed, wary of the mischievous glint in her friend's eyes. 

"Yes, you _are. And you're gonna ask Tristan to go with you." Samantha rubbed her hands gleefully. "I wanna meet this guy who's gotten you out of your no-dating rut."_

Rory was vehemently shaking her head, as she inwardly chastised herself for not divulging all the details of –what she liked to call- her non-relationship with Tristan. "No, I'm _not going and I'm __not asking him."_

She leveled a questioning stare at her friend, who was fidgeting. Putting on her best 'reporter' voice, Samantha asked, "Would you say that Tristan is a good-looking man?"

Rory wasn't quire sure what Samantha was up to, but her wariness remained. "I guess so," she answered. "If you like the blonde type, he is attractive."

"Hmm. And would you say that he can hold a decent conversation?"

"Yes, Tristan has conversational skills."

Samantha grinned smugly. "So I see no reason why you would wanna hide him from the world."

"No, not the world." Rory rolled her eyes, trying not to laugh. "I'm just hiding him from you."

"Hardy-har, Miss Gilmore." Her words lost her sarcastic bite as she urged, "Just ask him, and if he doesn't agree, then you don't have to go."

"So you don't want me there unless I'm with him?" Without waiting for a response, she gave in, knowing that Samantha would not stop hounding her until she agreed. "Okay, fine. I'll ask him."

"You know, with your astounding level of enthusiasm," Samantha remarked, "I'm sure he'll accept your invitation."

"Shut up and get me a fork, Sam." Rory eyed the cake on her desk. "Chocolate is suddenly looking good."

* * * * *

  
He hated being indecisive. 

He had been poring over his latest assignment, which was for an office building downtown. After a week of idleness, the workaholic in him jumped at the chance to get back in the swing of things. But he soon found that his concentration was lacking; not surprisingly, his thoughts wandered to Rory. He had spent most of the previous night at Harry's with Nick. Contrary of his earlier plan, he didn't drink too much and decided instead to indulge in reliving every moment he had spent with her. Nick had been a most willing listener; Tristan suspected that his friend had been somewhat amused by his ramblings. 

He'd been back in town for two days and Rory still hadn't called him. He wasn't sure if it was because she didn't want to, or because she wasn't back in New York yet. Of course, he could just call her and end his guessing game. But he didn't. A part of him warned him against seeming too eager and another part of him didn't want to be hurt in case she actually didn't want to talk to him. He tried to put her out of his mind, but the more he resolved _not to think about her, the more his thoughts strayed._

That was why he found himself standing in the florist during his lunch break, trying to decide what flowers to send to her. Flowers, he thought, were a relatively safe bet. They would tell her that he was thinking of her and they would save him from outright rejection- Rory could just throw the bouquet away if she didn't feel anything that he was feeling. 

Normally, he wouldn't think twice about sending a bouquet of red roses to a woman. In fact, now that he thought about it, he had never sent a woman anything but red roses. But somehow, he thought that roses – especially red ones- weren't appropriate; they conveyed too much. Plus, Rory wasn't just any woman. She was special to him and roses were too commonplace. 

Sighing, he decided to just grab whichever type of flower that caught his eye. 

* * * * *

"He gave you daffodils?" 

Rory looked up from the bouquet that was lying on her desk to see Samantha's incredulous expression. "There's nothing wrong with daffodils," she said defensively.

"No, but from what you told me, he struck me as a roses kind of guy."

Rory just shrugged. 

"So, this is your chance," Samantha said, bouncing on the balls of her feet excitedly.

"My chance to do what exactly?"

Samantha sighed exasperatedly. "I've been hearing you moan about how he hasn't called-"

"I have _not been moaning. There has been no moaning of any kind," Rory protested. _

"Well, you don't need to moan. You've been walking around, looking decidedly mopey and," she pointed accusingly, "don't think I didn't see how you suddenly became all smiley when you got his flowers."

"It's not like I get flowers every day."

She ignored Rory and went on, "So, this is your chance. Call him! Even if you don't wanna ask him to the party, at least call and thank him for the flowers."

"You had to use the courtesy reason, didn't you?" Rory narrowed her eyes. 

Samantha's smile was sickly sweet. "Well, Rory dear, I do know how you hate to be rude. By the way, what does the card say?" 

Rory slapped Samantha's hand away. "Go away, Sam."

Samantha laughed and winked before walking back to her desk, enjoying how easily she managed to rile Rory. "Call him," she said over her shoulder.

* * * * * 

Tristan was home early for once. After spending his lunch break stressing over flowers, he had gone back to his office and remained holed up in there until five when he was finally done with the plans that were due. After showing them to Nick and discussing their upcoming project, he went home. 

For once, he took the opportunity to relax. He took a long, warm shower before lying down on his king-sized bed and letting the sounds of Diana Krall soothe him. He was almost asleep when the telephone rang. He was tempted to just let it ring, but as his eyes drifted close, an image of Rory suddenly shot into his mind. Instantly, he jumped out of bed and reached for the phone on his bedside table. 

"Hello?"

"Tristan? It's me, Rory."

He almost sighed in relief. 

"I got your daffodils. They're gorgeous- thank you."

He thought back to what he had hastily written on the card- _Thinking about you. He hoped it wasn't too much. "Well, you're welcome."_

"Would you- well… I mean…"

Tristan laughed lightly, somehow comforted by how flustered she was- at least he wasn't the only one whose heart was pounding. "Spit it out, Rory."

The sound of her laugh traveled through the line, warming him. "What I've been trying to say is, would you wanna have dinner tonight? With me, I mean."

He was surprised since he had been trying to gather his nerve to ask the very same question ever since he picked up the phone and realized it was her. "I'd love to. I know this great place that-"

"I was hoping that we could stay in instead. It's been a long day and I just wanna relax a little."

Again, she surprised him. "Okay, sure."

"You can come over to my place and we can order pizza or Chinese or whatever."

"Sounds good," he agreed. 

After confirming their plans and getting directions to her apartment, Tristan replaced the phone on his table and flopped back down on his bed. His cheeks hurt from smiling too much. 

* * * * *


	12. More Than You Think You Are

**A.N: Eeep! Another long wait between chapters, I'm sorry. I'm not abandoning this story though so I hope you can be patient with my lack of updates. This story will be finished, slowly but surely. Heehee. I quite like this chapter, so I hope you do too. Happy reading!**

*** * * * *  
It Had To Be You  
by inmyeyes  
12: More Than You Think You Are**

_"Que só__lo amor es el que da valor a todas las cosas."_

_Lat., "It is love alone that gives worth to all things." - Santa Teresa de Jesús_

The moment she hung up the phone, she sat down shakily on her chair, wondering where the words had come from. She hadn't meant to invite him over. Oh no, not at all. All she had wanted to do was to thank him for the flowers –which she did- and to make some vague reference to a possible meeting –maybe, lunch or coffee or _something- in future. She would be cordial… but detached. Damnit, she had been aiming to be cool and collected; instead, she knew that she had sounded flustered. _

Damn him. 

Damn him for sending those beautiful flowers that were sitting prettily in a vase on her desk. He was probably only the second man in her life to send her flowers; The last time she had received flowers was years ago; Dean had given her red roses after a particularly vicious fight they had not long after Jess had gone back to New York. She reached for the card that had come with the flowers and her eyes took in the words 'Thinking of you.' Those three words made her extend the invitation, which was an admission that she had been thinking of him too. 

Damn him for sounding happy to hear from her. Damn him for being a wonderful kisser because all she could think about when she was talking was how lush his lips had felt on hers… and damn him for being everything that she didn't think he'd be.

As she reclined against her plush sofa, her mind wandered back to her teenage years, to her sophomore year at Chilton when she first met Tristan DuGrey. He had been charming in his own way, confident- almost overly so- ... and very very persistent. Comparing that Tristan to the man she now knew, there were little similarities. Or rather, she said to herself, she now saw more of him than she ever had before. 

What scared her was how much she liked what she saw. 

* * * * *

"I can't believe that you got _While You Were Sleeping!" Rory exclaimed gleefully. _

Tristan merely shrugged. "What can I say? I'm a Sandra Bullock kind of guy."

As she hit the 'play' button on the remote for her DVD player, she said, "I just figured that you'd pick some mindless action flick… something like _The Art of War." Rory shuddered at the thought. _

"I'm all for action flicks, but that was one bad movie. I'd rather watch a Hugh Grant movie."

"Oh my God, a guy who's willing to watch Hugh Grant?" Rory's eyes widened dramatically. "This I have to tell my mom."

"Hey, don't misquote me! The word 'willing' never left my mouth," he protested.

Rory grinned. "I bet you have a favourite Hugh movie. C'mon, tell me. Which one is it? _Four Weddings and A Funeral? __Two Weeks Notice? __Bridget Jones' Diary?"_

He sighed, knowing that Rory wouldn't give up until he answered. "_Notting__ Hill, actually."_

Her sigh was dreamy. "That was a great one," she agreed, clutching a cushion to her chest. "Definitely one of my favourites."

"So tell me, since we're talking movies, what's your favourite movie ever?"

"_Ever? I can't answer that! I can't just choose __one. It would be-" The sound of the doorbell cut off whatever it was she was going to say. "That must be the pizza. I'll get that."_

As Rory grabbed her purse from the side table and got up to answer the door, Tristan leaned back and breathed an inaudible sigh of relief. God, he had been so nervous! Earlier, while he had been waiting outside her door, he was almost tempted to just walk away and call Rory to make his excuses. Luckily, before he could take the easy way out, the door swung open and Rory was there, smiling at him. And though his nervousness tripled at the sight of her, his courage didn't fail him. He had returned her smile, holding up the bag of movies that he brought with him. Everything had been smooth-sailing ever since. 

"Please tell me that you like mushrooms," Rory called out from her kitchen as she pulled out plates. 

"I'm fine with mushrooms… as long as there are no pineapples," he replied, grabbing the pizza box from her as she made her way back to the living room. 

"I never did understand why anyone would want to have fruit on their pizza," Rory commented. "It's-"

"-unnatural," they both chorused. 

Rory couldn't help but grin. "Exactly."

Tristan nodded. "So, this is a pineapple-free pizza?" he asked as he pulled open the top. 

Her grin was still in place as she answered, "I'd have it no other way."

* * * * *

"Your mom brought you to a strip club?" Tristan said incredulously. The movie was long forgotten; in fact, they had barely sat through ten minutes of it before ignoring it completely and talking instead. He wasn't sure how long they had been talking, but he didn't want to stop. After shutting off the movie, Rory had switched on her stereo instead, letting low music fill the room. It felt cozy… and very intimate, as though they were cocooned from the world. 

Rory shook her head, laughing lightly as she did so. "Why do I always get that reaction when I say that?"

"It's just that you're- you're…" Tristan sputtered, waving his hand as he tried to make his point. "You're _Mary."_

She rolled her eyes and threw her uneaten pizza crust at him. "Gee, it's nice to know that after ten years, I still have 'Mary' tattooed on my forehead." She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. "It's no big deal; it was my 21st birthday after all. Everyone does something outrageous or stupid on their 21st. It's mandatory. It's in the 'How To Live Your Life' handbook."

"Tell me," Tristan urged, "did you have fun?" 

Rory broke down laughing as he teasingly wriggled his brows and leered at her. When she was finally composed enough to speak, she answered, "Well, I have to say… it was an _interesting experience."_

He smirked at her words. "I'm sure it was."

"Honestly," Rory lowered her voice, as though she was sharing a secret, "hearing my mom yell 'Take it off!' while waving a dollar bill in the air was just slightly scary."

"I imagine that it scarred you for life."

"No, actually, scarred for life happened when I was nine."

Tristan laughed. "Do I want to hear this?"

Rory's laugh matched his. "Probably not."

* * * * *

"I've always wondered about that, you know," Rory said, breaking the comfortable silence between them. 

Tristan moved his gaze from the raindrops misting up the windows to Rory's inquisitive look. His forehead creased in confusion as he asked, "About what?"

She gestured to his hand that was still lying against window pane. "That ring. You've always worn it; I remember seeing it on you when we were in Chilton."

He smiled as he twisted the silver band around his finger. He had been wearing it for so long that the feel of it against his skin hardly registered any more. "Well, it's special."

Rory tilted her head, studying his semi-closed off look in the dim light. Her voice was soft and tentative when she asked, "Girlfriend?"

"No," he shook his head, "it's from my grandfather."

Rory leaned back against the windows and waited patiently, somehow knowing that Tristan would talk eventually. She saw the way his lips curled up slightly as he looked at the ring and then how his eyes clouded up and that hint of a smile flittered away. In the semi-darkness, his angular features seemed more pronounced and with this aura of sadness around him, he seemed like some kind of fallen angel. She had to smile at that thought. 

"He died when I was 16," Tristan said, his voice soft as memories washed over him. "He was…" he paused, taking a deep breath, "a big part of my life and a big part of who I was, and who I could be. And when he died, it was really hard on me." He took off the ring and seemed to be examining it for a while before he slipped it back on. "The ring just reminds me of him. He gave it to me when I was 11."

Instinctively, Rory reached out and covered his hand with hers, giving a comforting squeeze. She didn't know what to say, didn't know how to react to the maelstrom of emotion she saw swimming his eyes. So, she said the only thing that came to mind: "You must have loved him very much."

The corners of his mouth lifted in a smile and he turned his hand to link his fingers with hers. "Yeah, I did. I do."

Rory felt the cold band of metal against her hand and smiled. They stood there together, looking out into the darkened sky for a long time.

* * * * *

She wasn't sure what time it was, and honestly, she didn't care. She was learning so much about him and with every bit of him that was revealed, she found herself wanting to know more. Scarily enough – at least for her-, she was equally open with him. There was something about his open and sincere expression that made it so easy for her to share things about herself that few others knew. 

It had been raining for a while now. She had always loved the rain, loving that feeling of wiping the slate clean and starting over that permeated her body once the sky had dried itself of its tears. With Norah Jones playing, a blanket wrapped around her legs, a cup of coffee in her hand and Tristan sitting close to her, she felt so relaxed that she could just fall asleep there and then. 

Letting out what sounded like a purr, she unconsciously leaned further into Tristan. Moments later, she sighed contentedly again as she felt his hand stroking through her curtain of dark brown hair. 

"It's late and you're getting sleepy. I should go," he whispered against her hair. 

"Mmm, no. Not yet. Stay for a while more," Rory mumbled, leaning her head against his shoulder. 

Tristan didn't put up a fight. "Okay."

Rory suddenly sat up straight, almost bumping into Tristan's chin as she did so. "Oh yeah, before I forget, I need to ask you something."

His brow raised in curiosity, he said, "Okay, ask away."

"Well," she bit her lip, feeling a little unsure. "I have this office Christmas party to go to… and I was wondering if you'd want to go with me."

Tristan smiled at the offer, his eyes lighting up. "Sure, I'd love to."

"Really?"

Leaning forward, he brushed a wayward strand of hair behind her ear and smiled, hoping to ease the uncertain look in her eyes. "Yes, really."

Rory pretty much held his breath, her heart pounding at his nearness. All she had to do was lean forward… and their lips would touch. His eyes were still trained on hers, and even though she looked, she couldn't figure out what he was thinking. She could never tell what went through his mind half the time; while he was open and candid with her, she still sensed an invisible wall between them… a wall that she knew was also standing on her side. 

God, this thing –whatever it was- between them was infinitely complicated. The only thing she knew for sure was that she wanted to kiss him. Really wanted to. She also knew that if he didn't end this agonizing anticipation, she could go crazy… and that she'd eventually give in to the crackling electricity between them. 

"Tristan?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

"Hmmm?" 

The moment was irrevocably shattered by the loud, shrill sound of a ringing telephone. Rory very nearly groaned in frustration but merely gave a shaky smile when Tristan held up his cell phone, muttering an apology to her before he answered. 

She tuned out the sound of his voice and let her mind wander instead, thinking of what might have happened if it weren't for the untimely interruption. But she was pulled out of her thoughts when Tristan's voice grew louder, and more frantic. 

"Will, tell me that she's all right!" Tristan demanded, running a hand through his hair. Initially, when he picked up the call, he was ready to kill whoever it was for their bad timing. But when he realized that it was William who was calling- and Will rarely called his cell phone unless it was an emergency-, his stomach dropped. The uneasy feeling in him grew with every word that was said. 

"Tristan, I found her unconscious in her room," William said, trying to keep his voice calm. "I brought her to the hospital immediately."

"Is she all right?" Tristan repeated. He didn't realize that his fists were tightly clenched until he felt Rory gently pry his fingers apart. He looked up into her concerned gaze, thankful for her support. 

His tone was resigned. "I don't know, Tristan. The doctor's still with her"

"I'm coming down there." He paused before asking, "They're not there, are they?"

William sighed. "No, they're not."

He let out a bitter laugh. "Why am I not surprised? I'm leaving now, Will… I'll see you in a few hours."

"Drive safely, Tristan," came William's advice.  

Tristan closed his eyes and sighed deeply. "If Nat wakes up, tell her I love her and that I'll be there."

* * * * * 

The long drive to St. Francis Hospital and Medical Center in Hartford was mostly made in silence, except for the low hum of the radio in the background. Tristan was caught up in his worries and hell bent on getting to Hartford as fast as possible, without completely disregarding all traffic laws. Natalie needed him, and he wasn't about to let her down. 

He had been surprised when Rory insisted on coming along with him. He had tried to change her mind, but as he found out, once Rory's mind was made up, she was the most stubborn, unyielding creature ever. Although he didn't want to admit it, he welcomed her company, knowing that he needed someone to keep him sane and –most importantly- someone to hold his hand. 

And she was doing just that- his fingers were meshed with hers and she was slowly whispering comforting words in his ear. He raised his head to meet her gaze and when she gripped his hand tighter, he smiled and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. 

"Thanks for being here, Ror," was his mumbled whisper. 

When they arrived at the hospital, William filled them into on what had transpired. According to the doctor, Natalie had collapsed because of the extremely low levels of glucose in her blood. She had been dehydrated and was very weak. But- and Tristan finally managed to breathe easy after hearing this- it was nothing that a few days of rest and care couldn't cure. She was sleeping peacefully now, but since the doctor was still running tests and checking for other complications, they could not see her yet. 

Tristan had only been sitting in the waiting room for 15 minutes but to him, it felt like hours. He needed to see her, to ascertain for himself that she really was going to be fine. He was also fighting to keep his anger down, knowing that anger wouldn't help the situation at all. Still, he couldn't help but berate himself; he had noticed during his last few days at home that Natalie wasn't feeling too well, but his worry had been assuaged when she assured him that she was feeling okay. However, the main source of his anger was his parents' absence. 

The heavy sound of footsteps made him stand up and he breathed a sigh of relief when he recognized the man as the doctor who had been treating Natalie ever since she was young. "Dr. Locke, how's she doing?"

"She's going to be fine, Tristan. Her blood sugar level was really low initially but we've managed to stabilize it. I don't know exactly what brought it on, but I have a feeling that it was a combination of stress and not watching her diet. We might need to change her medication too."

"She wasn't feeling too well a few days ago and I noticed that she hadn't been eating well," Tristan told the doctor.

"And," Will added, "she didn't eat much today either. She cooped herself up in her room and didn't take dinner."

Dr. Locke sighed. "Natalie should know better than that. She knows that she needs to have regular meals. I'll have a talk with her later about that, if you don't mind Tristan."

Tristan nodded. "Can I see her?"

* * * * *

Her blue eyes slowly opened at the sound of approaching footsteps and when her brother came into her line of vision, she smiled weakly. "Hi Tristan."

"Don't you 'hi Tristan' me," he said, sounding stern. But the touch of his hand against her forehead as he smoothed back her hair was gentle and belied the worry that had been eating at him. Then he grabbed her hand. "You gave me quite a scare," he admitted.

"I think I gave Will a scare."

Tristan perched himself on the edge of her bed and chuckled. "Yes, you did." His laughter melted away when he asked, "What happened, Nat?"

Her eyes clouded over as she remembered what had happened earlier that evening. "Can we not talk about this now?" she pleaded.

He bit his lip, holding back a sigh. "Okay, Nat," he gave in.

"I'm sorry, Tee," she mumbled, reverting back to the childhood name she had given her brother. 

"There's nothing to be sorry about." He leaned forward and gently enfolded her in his arms, mindful of the tubes around her. "I'm glad you're all right."

Natalie welcomed the protective and comforting feel of her brother's hug. Tears pricked her eyes as she whispered, "I love you, Tee."

Her words brought a smile to his lips, his first since that frantic phone call from William. "I love you too, Nat."

* * * * *

Tristan concentrated on not getting himself worked up as Will and Rory each took their turns to see Natalie. Judging from what Natalie _hadn't said, he had the feeling that his parents did something that evening that upset her. All he needed now was confirmation from Will. _

Half an hour later, they arrived safely at the DuGrey home. It was almost four in the morning and Tristan knew that Will had had a trying night and needed sleep… but he needed answers and he wasn't patient enough to wait. 

"Will, can I talk to you for a while?"

The middle-aged man glimpsed the banked anger in Tristan's eyes and knew better than to refuse. He also knew exactly what Tristan was going to talk to him about. "Can we at least go to the kitchen? I really need a cup of coffee."

Rory shifted uncomfortably, wondering what to do with herself. "Well, I'll-"

Tristan held out his hand to her. "If you're not too tired, I'd like to stay too."

She hesitated only a moment before slipping her hand into his. "Okay." She grinned, hoping to dispel some of the tension in the air. "Besides, I'm not one to turn down coffee."

Once they each had a cup of steaming coffee in their hands and there was a plate of cookies on the table, William spoke up. "Your parents left for Hawaii late yesterday afternoon. The reason Nat knew that they were leaving was because of the noise of the luggage being brought down. She came downstairs and stood at the foot of the staircase, waiting for either your mom or dad to say anything but neither did. When they were about to leave, Nat started yelling at them. Mrs. DuGrey was about to say something to her, but your dad just told her to go up to her room. And then…they left. Nat stayed in her room… and when I checked up on her before going to bed, I found her passed out on the floor. The rest, you already know."

"What the hell are they doing in Hawaii?" Tristan said through gritted teeth.

"I recall your mother saying something about wanting to get away from this horrible cold weather," William said sardonically. 

Without saying another word, Tristan pushed his chair back and strode out of the kitchen. 

William sighed, for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. "I should be getting to sleep. Would you like me to show you to your room, Miss Gilmore?"

"Like I've said, please call me Rory. And if it's okay, I'll like to stay down here for a while," Rory said, smiling appreciatively. 

William gave her a knowing look. "All right then, Rory. Good night."

* * * * *

She knew that he needed time alone to blow off his steam. So, she took her time finishing her large mug of coffee and ate a few cookies before getting up to find him. Pausing only to put on her jacket and grab a blanket that had been lying on the living room sofa, she made her way out through the kitchen door and into the large, well-tended garden. Moments later, she reached the large clearing where they had met before. Underneath the gazebo was Tristan's huddled figure. 

She had been shocked earlier at William's account of what happened. She knew from what Tristan had told her that his parents didn't care but to hear about it firsthand was different. It made it more real. It also made her appreciate her own family and all the love and support that she got from them. She made a mental note to call her mom. 

When she reached Tristan, she flung the blanket around his shoulders before sitting next to him and wrapping an arm around him. "You're freezing," she said.

She thought that he might still be angry but when he looked at her, she saw his bleak expression and knew that the anger had passed and was replaced by something else. Something akin to pain and desperation. 

"I- I don't-" his voice broke and he paused before going on. "I don't want to be like them." He swallowed the lump in his throat. His voice could be barely heard as he expressed his fear, "I'm so afraid that I'm going to end up like them, Rory."

Her heart broke for him. "Oh, Tristan." She turned and fully embraced him. "That's not gonna happen."

"I don't how to be any other way. I don't know how to care about anyone else but myself."

Rory pulled away slightly, looking into his eyes and resting her hand against his cold cheek. "Yes, you do," she insisted. "I see the way you are with Natalie. You are so wonderful with her, do you know that Tristan?"

Tristan acted as though he didn't hear her. "They didn't want Natalie. Once she was born, they pretended that she didn't exist. The only time I ever saw them give a damn about her was when she was nine. It was similar to what happened tonight; Nat passed out and my mom found her. She didn't stop crying for an entire day. When we found out that it was because she's diabetic and had low blood sugar, her tears finally stopped. And things went back to normal again- she went back to not caring."

"Tristan," Rory said, cupping his face so that he would look right at her. "You are _nothing like them."_

He didn't say anything; he just closed his eyes. When she saw a stray tear rolling down his cheek, she pulled him into a hug again. They stayed that way until colour slowly brightened the sky, bringing the dawn of a new day. 

* * * * *

**A.N: There ya go, hope you enjoyed it. All I know about diabetes I learnt from here (http://www.medem.com/medlb/article_detaillb.cfm?article_ID=ZZZHMO0EQ8C⊂_cat=57) so I hope I didn't get anything wrong! :) Thanks for reading. **


	13. Time Of My Life

**A.N: ** Yes, I'm back! Thank you for your patience. This one is for the FF Trories who 'reminded' and urged me to update. Without them, this would still be sitting unfinished in my computer. I hope that this is (somewhat) worth the wait. :-) 

*** * * * ***

**It Had To Be You   
by inmyeyes  
13: Time of My Life**

She was running late and she still hadn't decided what to wear. With her ratty bathrobe and her make-up half-done, Rory sat at the edge of her bed, telling herself to calm down. Glancing at the clock above her dressing table, she saw that she actually still had another half an hour before Tristan would come a-knocking on her door. 

She took a deep breath then stood up in front of her full-length mirror with outfit number one which was a black sheath dress that skimmed her figure and stopped just below her knees. After a minute of contemplation, she pursued her lips and picked up her other choice- a wine red dress which was a little more risqué. 

Before she could make up her mind (or contemplate some more), the phone started to ring. For once, she knew exactly where it was. Reaching for it on her bedside table, she said hurriedly, "Say whatever you wanna say and say it fast."

"Is that any way to talk to your mother, young lady?" Lorelai said sternly. But she ruined the effect by laughing a few seconds later. 

Rory had to smile. "Where did that come from?"

"Sorry," Lorelai said apologetically, "I was channeling Emily Gilmore. I've decided that I'll be her during Halloween. That'd be suitably scary, don't you think?"

"Mom, Halloween isn't for another year," Rory pointed out.

"Minor detail. I like to be prepared anyway… and being Emily would _definitely _need practice."

"Time is ticking away here… did you have an actual reason for calling?"

Lorelai gasped melodramatically. "Ingrate! Can't I speak to my favourite daughter without a legitimate reason?"

"I'm your _only _daughter."

"My, you're sharp today, picking up all the details."

"Maybe I should have just stayed angry at you."

There was another gasp from Lorelai. "You're mean too."

"Well, I'm gonna get even meaner and hang up if you don't tell me why you called," Rory threatened, but she was smiling the whole time. 

"Fine then," Lorelai huffed. "I bring a message from your esteemed grandmother who requests your presence at their Christmas party on the 26th."

"You quoted that verbatim, didn't you?"

"She made me write it down," Lorelai sighed. "The things I do for my mother."

"Well…"

"Oh," Lorelai added, "she also said that you should bring your lovely young man with you."

"My lovely young man?" Rory repeated, amused.

"Like I told you, kid, they're already planning the wedding reception."

"Well, tell grandma that I'll be there with my lovely young man, if he agrees to go with me."

"You go to that party with him and I assure you that they'll be deciding what to name your children," Lorelai warned. 

Rory's ignored her mother's rambling. "Is that all? I really have to go, Mom."

"Why?" Lorelai asked, but a moment later she answered her own question. "You're going out with lover-boy."

"I have that office Christmas party to go to… and now," she looked at the clock, "I only have twenty minutes to get ready."

Lorelai grinned. "Have a good time with lover-boy, I'll see you in a few days."

"Yeah, I will."

Once she got her mother off the phone, Rory sat down on her bed again. Talking to Lorelai was often a tiring experience, but she couldn't be happier that things were getting better. 

The morning after she accompanied Tristan to Hartford to see Natalie, she dropped by Stars Hollow. When Tristan shared with her the details of his family-life, she remembered how great Lorelai had always been and how much love and support she had been given throughout her life. She realized that she didn't want to lose the wonderful relationship they had and that she had to try and save it before it inevitably crumbled.

So, when she went to see Lorelai, she was finally truly willing to put the past behind her. That day, a big step had been taken to rebuild their bond to what it had been before. Ever since, they had been keeping in close contact and Rory felt happier that things were back to what they should be. 

She was almost sure that she was going to wear the black dress when her phone rang again. Sighing, she decided to let the machine pick up and continued with her make-up. The sound of Samantha's chirpy voice filling the apartment nearly made her poke herself in the eye with the mascara wand. 

"Ro-ry!" Samantha sing-songed. "I know you're there. Pick up the phone."

Rory rolled her eyes and grabbed the phone. "What do you want, Sam? I'm getting dressed, I have no time to talk to you."

"I'm just doing friend duty," Sam said, innocently. "I wanted to make sure that you won't back out with a convenient excuse."

"I'm surprised that you didn't insist on picking me up and dragging me to the Marriott," Rory said dryly.

"It crossed my mind, but since you're on a _date_," Sam emphasized with relish, "I didn't want to be the third wheel."

"You called just to make sure that Tristan was coming, didn't you?"

"Hey!" Sam protested. "You can't blame me for wanting to meet your gorgeous beau."

"He's not mine, Sam."

"I'll judge for myself, thank you." Sam quickly changed the subject before Rory could say anything. "And if I may make a suggestion, you should wear your tarty red dress."

"Wow, with a recommendation like that, I'll be sure _not_ to wear that dress," Rory countered. 

"Rory, darling," Sam adopted a faux British accent, "I meant tarty, in the nicest possible way. You'll look so good in that dress that every woman in the room will hate you." Her voice turned serious. "Seriously, Ror… live a little. Wear that dress and walk in with a handsome man on your arm."

Rory stared at the dress lying on the bed and cursed the fact that she could be so easily persuaded. "The whole 'tarty-in-the-nicest-possible-way' thing better be true or this friendship is over."

Sam went back to her British accent. "Don't worry, darling, you'll look so fabulous that even _I'll _be tempted to be catty to you."

"Well, I need to get my tarty self ready so I can knock everyone's socks off."

"Don't be late."

When she finally managed to convince Samantha that she would there, on time, with Tristan, wearing her red dress, Sam finally relented. With a shake of her head, Rory hit the 'off' button on the phone and threw it on her bed. 

For a second, she thought about 'defying' Sam and going with the black dress but some bold part of her that was sick of being ignored encouraged her to be daring for once. With a prayer that she wouldn't look completely ridiculous, she yanked the red dress off the hanger. 

Red was the colour of the Christmas season anyway, she reasoned. 

* * * * *

As they waited for the elevator to take them to the party venue on the third floor, Tristan cast another look at Rory, unable to keep his eyes away because she looked so beautiful. Okay, he admitted to himself that he was actually staring at her shapely legs which looked a mile long in her dress. 

He resisted the urge to whistle as his eyes moved up her body, taking in her entire form. That red dress was really something, he thought, as he tried to hold back an appreciative smile. Unfortunately, Rory chose that exact moment to turn back and look at him. 

"Tristan, are you okay?" she asked, laying a hand on his arm as she peered at him. 

He let his smile widen. "Oh believe me, I'm perfectly fine." His eyes ran over her again. "And, I must say… you look _ fine_."

Rory rolled her eyes, but she knew she couldn't hide her blush. "You'll look twice at anything in a short skirt," she quipped. 

"But since you're special," he smile roguishly, "I've had to look more than twice."

"Oh," Rory put a hand on her chest and sighed dramatically, "such flattery."

Tristan waved his hand dismissively. "That was child's play. You want flattery?" He arched his brow, and then proceeded to lean closer to her, almost trapping her against the closed elevator doors. When he spoke, his voice was low and intimate, "Flattery would be me saying that you're so beautiful that you take my breath away."

Her heart was pounding and his nearness made her feel dizzy but she hid her response to him well. Snorting, she said dryly, "That sounds more like a cliché than flattery."

He saw the challenge in her eyes. Oh, this was too much fun. It was _frustrating_, but fun. He inched closer until his lips brushed the shell of her ear. "You make me forget the rest of the world exists. When I look into your eyes, it's just you and me and something tells me that I've found everything I've ever wanted. And when I touch you," he put his words into action, lifting his hand to gently caress her cheek, "and I feel you tremble-"

Rory had closed her eyes the moment his silky voice reached out and caressed her. He was dangerous. Pulling her wits about her, she ran her hands up his chest and slowly pushed him away. "That wasn't flattery, Mr. DuGrey," she said, teasingly. She knew her smile was shaky. "That was seduction."

"There's a difference?" he asked, his lips curling into a smile as he took in her flushed cheeks. 

The ding of the elevator sounded before Rory could say anything. As the doors opened and she walked into the elevator, she said, "Oh yes, there's definitely a difference."

Tristan just grinned.

* * * * *

Unfortunately –or maybe, _fortunately_-, Samantha was right. The moment she walked through the double doors, every eye in the room turned to her. She was tempted to turn around and walk away but Tristan anchored her to the spot. The feel of his arm around her waist was both reassuring and nerve-wracking, and his hold tightened imperceptibly as they walked further into the room. 

The attention, thankfully, didn't last very long. Rory visibly relaxed as Tristan ushered her to an empty table. 

"You feeling okay?" he asked. 

Rory nodded, reaching for the glass of water in front of her. "I'm fine. I was just surprised, that's all."

He chuckled. "I'm sure you knew perfectly well what reaction you'd get with that dress, Rory."

"Actually," came the voice from behind them, "_I _was the one who tipped her off. Hell, I was the one who persuaded her to buy the damn dress."

Tristan turned around in his seat to look at the newcomer. Smiling, he said, "Well, I guess you deserve a big thank you."

Sam waved her hand airily. "Just doing my part in bringing Rory's inner she-devil out." She punctuated her statement with a bold wink, earning a laugh from Tristan. 

"She has an inner she-devil?"

"Believe me, she does. She hides it really well, but sometimes she lets it come out to play." She gave him a quick once-over, taking in the dark blue shirt under the impeccably tailored suit. "And _you_ must be Tristan."

He took her pre-offered hand and lifted it to his lips, turning on the charm. "I see my reputation precedes me."

Rory jumped in, knowing that Sam would say something absolutely inappropriate in response. "Tristan, this is Samantha Lee: fellow reporter and former Harvard roommate."

"Oh, so you're Sammy." At Sam's perplexed look, he offered an explanation. "I know Paris and she's spoken of you."

At this information, Sam raised her brow and gave him an appraising look. "You're the Tristan from Chilton?"

Rory was the one who answered. "Yes, he is."

Sam tsked lightly. "Funny how you neglected to mention that, Ror."

All Rory did was give an innocent smile. "Must have crossed my mind."

She decided to let her friend off the hook and changed the subject. "I was right, wasn't I?" she exclaimed, gleefully rubbing her hands. "I can feel all the women in this room casting jealous looks at you." 

Rory rolled her eyes. "Great. Just great."

"You've got _the_ dress and," Sam grinned at Tristan, "the perfect accessory." She stuck her lower lip out in a pout. "Even _I _hate you right now."

"I'm an accessory?" Tristan protested. 

"Well, sweetheart, with you at Rory's side, she looks even more fabulous."

His eyes turned beseechingly to Rory. "Is that why you asked me to come with you?"

Rory smiled widely, deciding to play along. "I just wanted to show you off." She stood up and held her hand out to him. "So c'mon Romeo, let's go heat up the dance floor."

He couldn't turn down an offer like that. 

Sam watched as the pair ambled to the dance floor, smiling herself. Rory Gilmore may not admit it, she thought, but she liked Tristan. A lot. 

* * * * *

"Are you going back to Stars Hollow for Christmas?"

Rory nodded against his shoulder but pulled back a moment later so that she could look at him. "Yeah, I will be." Her smile was cheery when she said, "I'm actually looking forward to it."

He matched her smile and watched as she rested her head on his shoulder again. His smile broadened and he leaned closer to her, taking in the feel of her slender body close to him. "Any particular reason why you're so excited?"

Her voice near his ear, she answered, "It's just that things are so much better now with my mom. All that awkwardness is gone… and Christmas can go back to being what it used to be. Are you going back too?"

"I don't want to," Tristan began and she felt his body tense a little. "But I do anyway; I don't want Nat to be alone on Christmas."

She leaned back, smiling as she looked into his eyes. "I have an idea." 

"Why am I scared?" Tristan joked. 

Swatting his arm, she ignored his jibe and went on, "How would you feel about spending Christmas in Stars Hollow?"

He took in her expectant look, but was still uncertain. "Are you sure?"

Rory's nod was emphatic. "I'm sure. Nat will love it." The arms around his neck curled tighter. "_You'll _love it. Nothing beats Christmas Stars Hollow style"

He considered her offer for a moment, but it was too tempting and he found himself giving in. "Okay, I'll run the idea by Nat and see what she says."

"Great." Her smile faded as she remembered a tiny detail. "One thing though: my grandparents are having a party on the 26th and she invited the both of us."

"No problem, we'll go."

"You don't mind?"

"Better your grandparents than my parents," he pointed out. "If I at least show my face at one of those parties, my parents can't say anything. But I wanna cash in a favour of my own."

"Well, after all the favours you've done for me, I can't say no, can I?" Rory smiled. 

"My friend, Nick, is having a New Years' Eve party. So if you'll be here on the Eve, I'd like you to come with me."

"Not a problem."

He smiled his thanks but he couldn't resist teasing, "You didn't say yes out of pity, did you?"

In response, she rolled her eyes. "Say another word and you'll need to find yourself another date."

Tristan wisely kept his mouth shut. 

* * * * *

"You're leaving, already?" Sam whined. "You'll be missing out on the fun. Half the people are still sober!"

Rory laughed. "You have a warped sense of humor, Sam."

"I know," Sam grinned. "That's what years of friendship with you did to me." She glanced meaningfully at Tristan who was waiting a few feet away. "So, you're off for a little rendezvous with Mr. Sexy over there, huh?" 

"Maybe, maybe not," was Rory's evasive answer. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Of course I wanna know! Why do you think I asked in the first place?"

"'Cos you like poking your nose in my business?"

"Well, that too," Sam conceded. "C'mon, give me some dirt!" 

Rory shrugged. "I don't know what we're gonna do. Probably get some coffee or something."

Sam grabbed her friend by the shoulders and shook her lightly. "Rory, you have that gorgeous specimen of a man at your beck and call and all you can think of is getting coffee?" She shook her head in disappointment. "I have failed as a friend."

"Look, it's not like that with the two of us," Rory said defensively.

"Uh huh," Sam said, unconvinced. "Sure, if you say so. I see the way he looks at you. And," she said pointedly, "I see the way you look at him." 

"It doesn't mean anything."

"Oh, for God's sake, the sexual tension between you two is overwhelming," Sam argued. "It's all there in the subtext."

"There is _no_ subtext," was the vehement denial. 

Sam's grin was smug. "What I've heard from Paris tells me otherwise."

"What could Paris possibly have to say?" Rory sighed. 

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Sam quipped, delighting in throwing Rory's words back at her. 

Rory just narrowed her eyes in exasperation.

"Fine, fine. Go on," Sam finally said, making a shoo-ing motion. "Just be sure to give me every lurid detail."

"There'll be nothing to tell," Rory insisted.

"Wanna bet?" 

* * * * *

Rory simultaneously tried to pull her coat closer to her body and keep up with Tristan, who was practically dragging her along. "What's the hurry? Where are we going?" she asked, her breath coming out in short puffs. "Oooh, I see a Starbucks! Can we-"

Tristan squeezed her hand, but didn't stop. "No, we can't. We only have fifteen minutes to get there."

She sighed, but truthfully she wasn't that put out. "To get where?"

Turning back to smile at her, he said, "I thought you would have figured it out by now."

"What do you think I am? A walking map of New York?" she huffed. "All I know is that you parked an ungodly distance from wherever it is we're going."

"Patience, little grasshopper."

"You try being patient while brisk-walking in two-inch heels."

When Tristan abruptly halted, she almost ran into him. It was his quick reflexes that prevented her from falling face-down on the cold asphalt. 

"Are you hurt?" he asked, his eyes filled with concern. 

Rory shook her head and laughed lightly. "Nope. Just me being a klutz." 

When she tore her eyes away from his, she realized that they were standing in front of the Empire State Building. Looking back at him, she saw his wide smile and she found herself shaking her head, half in disbelief. "You're unbelievable, you know that?"

His smile widened but he didn't say anything. Tugging on her hand, he said, "C'mon, let's go."

* * * * *

"I wish we could stay up here longer," Rory whispered, her eyes on the New York skyline. Her coat was doing little to protect her from the cold wind and it seemed like she was slowly losing the feeling in her toes but she didn't care. When she first came to New York and was eager to explore the city, visiting the Empire State Building had been on her list of things to do. She can't remember exactly why, but she never did get around to it. Taking in the spectacular view before her, she wished that she had. 

"We've still got another fifteen minutes before closing time," Tristan said, enjoying watching her reaction. "And you can come back again some other day."

"I know," was her plain answer. "But," her smile was faraway, "nothing can match up to this first time."

As her eyes scanned the night sky, his eyes trailed over her. He enjoying seeing the light in her eyes and the faint smile of wonder that made him appreciate the beauty laid out before him, even though he had been up there before. He noticed something else too: the slight tremble of her shoulders and the way she hugged her arms around herself. 

Without hesitation, he laid an arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer to him. "You're freezing. Maybe we should go inside."

"No, I'm fine," she replied, but she huddled closer to him; her actions betraying her words. 

He drew his arm back, in order to shrug off his coat and offer it to her but she stilled him by placing a hand on his chest. "You don't have to. I'll be fine."

Tristan shook his head. "You can't expect me to be warm while you're freezing your ass off. It's most un-chivalrous."

"Well, it wouldn't be gracious of me to let you turn into an icicle."

"I have a solution." His mischievous grin had her on guard. "How about we _share _my coat?"

She raised her brow at his suggestion. "So this whole thing was an elaborate ploy to get me in your coat?"

Tristan laughed and pulled her back to him until she was within hugging distance. She didn't protest. "I wouldn't say elaborate ploy." Pulling open his coat, he tugged her forward until she was snugly in his arms. "It was more like an opportunity that presented itself."

"Hmm," she mumbled, as she felt his body warmth seep into her. In an unconscious move, she snaked one arm around his waist, her other hand climbing up to rest against his chest. "You always did strike me as an opportunist." 

"What a glowing compliment."

She didn't bother lifting her head from his chest. "I meant that you're the kind of person who wouldn't let a chance pass him by, wouldn't let something he really wanted to slip away."

"Is that so?" he asked.

"Yes, it is," she confirmed. 

"Well then," his voice lowered to a whisper, "thank you."

Something in his tone of voice- as well as the frenzied beat of his heart that she felt beneath her palm- made her pull back. The expression in his eyes gave his whispered words more meaning than the situation warranted. 

Smiling gently, he ran his fingertips across her cheek and felt an answering shiver run through her. 

When she finally spoke, her voice was as soft as his had been. "You're welcome."

To her, it felt like the moment was frozen in time. His lips were still tilted in an irresistible smile and his eyes were still locked on hers. She was holding her breath, anticipating _something_ but not really sure if she had only imagined his gaze dropping down to her lips before darting back up again. 

She wanted _him _to kiss her. She wanted to know that she affected him as much as he did her. She had to know that the attraction wasn't one-sided, that the desire burgeoning within her was echoed in him. 

"You're beautiful, you know that?" he told her, his voice rough with emotion. 

Rory let out a little laugh but the tension that coiled her stomach tightened with the impact of his words… and the feel of his fingers sifting through her hair. "So you've told me," she answered. 

"Well, you are," he affirmed, leaning forward until his breath brushed her lips with every word he whispered. 

The next moment, heat diffused through her chilled body as their lips met. She wasn't quite certain who had initiated the kiss but when his hand ran up her back and settled at her nape and his lips opened more insistently against hers, all coherent thought fled her mind. All she could do was to grip his waist tighter and welcome the deepening intensity of his kiss. 

The kiss slowly tapered off with one last brush of his lips over hers but they still kept their arms around each other; both reluctant to end the closeness. 

"We seem to keep that doing that," Tristan remarked, unable to keep the smile off his face. 

"Are you complaining?" she teased, moving forward to kiss the corner of his smile. "'Cos we can stop, if you want."

He scrunched up his forehead, pretending to think about it. "I don't know. What do you think?"

"I think that we can't help it."

"We can't help it?"

Rory nodded sagely but the playful twinkle in her eyes undermined her seriousness. "No, we can't." 

To prove her point, she yanked on his tie, meshing her mouth to his as soon as he was near enough. Instantly, the teasing banter was forgotten as the spark between them fused with each slow stroke of passion. The last thing that crossed Rory's mind before she surrendered to the storm of emotion was that she had lost the bet with Sam. 

* * * * *


	14. Something In The Air

**A.N:** It's difficult to believe that this story is a year old. And I also can't believe that it's not finished yet. I really need to step up. Heh. Anyway, thank you all for your support for the story in the past year and your patience in waiting for updates. You've all been lovely. I promise that this will be finished before another year passes. ;-)  
  
  


*** * * * *  
It Had To Be You  
by inmyeyes  
14: Something In The Air  
**

_  
  
_

_ "There is no disguise which can hide love for long where it exists, or simulate it where it does not."_ -La Rochefoucauld  


  
  
Rory pushed the door open and breathed a sigh of relief as warmth enveloped her chilled body. It was seven in the evening but the diner was unusually empty. Then again, it was Christmas Eve.   
  
For once, the interior of the diner reflected the time of year. Rory bit back a smile as she remembered all the times when Taylor had unsuccessfully tried to persuade Luke to decorate and join in the festivities. And, it seemed that at last he had succeeded.   
  
In one corner, there stood a small Christmas tree. By all measures, it was modestly-sized but the mass of mismatched ornaments that weighed down its branches. Upon closer inspection, she could easily make out who had contributed. There was no doubt that the little gnome ornament had come from Babette and that the beautiful ballerina hanging precariously at the peak of the tree had been Miss Patty's contribution.   
  
Looking around again, she saw tinsel lining the edge of the bar and sprigs of mistletoe hanging randomly from the ceiling. The pile of napkins lying on the bar top was red and the sparkly sign that read 'Merry Christmas' looked suspiciously like Lorelai's handiwork. When she caught sight of the back of the front door, her eyes widened. Was that really-  
  
"You won't be surprised to hear that the naked cherub was your mother's idea."  
  
The familiar gruff voice underlined with a trace of humour made her spin around. "Jess!" she squealed happily, flying towards him with open arms.   
  
"Hey, careful now. We wouldn't want my fiancée to get the wrong idea." Despite his words, his hug was just as fierce.  
  
Pulling away, Rory's eyes subjected him to the same thorough inspection she had given to the decorations. Little had changed about him since the last time she saw him. He was still the lean, wiry guy she had first met all those years ago. He was dressed in faded jeans and an equally faded t-shirt, looking more 18 than 28. Age had given him a maturity that was reflected in his deep brown eyes. When she looked more closely, she saw something that she hadn't ever seen in him before.   
  
He was happy.   
  
Grinning, she playfully hit his shoulder. "That's for not telling me that you and Lane were dating, let alone _engaged_. Some kind of friend you are."  
  
He just shrugged. "You won't have believed me anyway. Hell, no one believes it still. We were at Doose's just now, and Taylor told Lane that I'm bad news and that she could get away while she could." He rolled his eyes.   
  
"I think he's still hung up on that white chalk incident."  
  
"He does have a memory of an elephant."  
  
"Forget Taylor." A gleam entered her eyes as she asked, "How did your future mother-in-law respond?"  
  
His lips tilted into a sardonic grin. "That's a story for Lane to tell."  
  
Rory laughed. "I can't wait to hear it."  
  
"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at home?"  
  
"My mom wanted me to make sure that Luke was bringing the brownies," she answered, pointing to the covered pan of brownies on the countertop. "Are you joining us for dinner? Sookie's outdone herself this year."   
  
Jess shook his head regretfully. "I need to ingrate myself with the in-laws."  
  
She tried not to laugh at the image that came to her mind. "Good luck."  
  
"Uncle Luke told me you and your mom are on good terms again. That's good."  
  
Her smile stretched from ear-to-ear. "Yeah, it's great. Things couldn't be better."  
  
Footsteps sounded and moments later, Luke entered, his head bare and his fingers tugging impatiently at the collar of his shirt.   
  
"Run out of flannel shirts?" came Jess' innocent question.  
  
Luke shot him a dirty look and focused instead on Rory, ignoring the amused expression on her face. "What are you doing here?"   
  
"I'm here for the brownies," she said.   
  
Luke mumbled inaudible but handed the brownies to her. Frowning, he asked, "Did you walk over?"   
  
"Yup."  
  
"You're got as little sense as your mother. I'll be waiting in the truck."  
  
When the door closed behind him, Rory & Jess shared a look.   
  
"I've never seen him wear anything but plaid," Jess remarked. "Hell, I've hardly seen him without a cap."   
  
"My mom took an inordinate amount of time picking out what to wear," Rory commented.  
  
"Interesting."   
  
Her grin matched his. "Very interesting."  
  


* * * * *  


  
"Didn't Luke look nice today? I've never seen him look so spiffy."  
  
It was nearly midnight and the Gilmore girls were lounging in their living room. The mellow sound of Nat King Cole filled the room and the only source of light came from the flicker of the string of lights around the massive Christmas tree.   
  
Lorelai made a noncommittal sound and simply took another sip of her eggnog.   
  
"I'd even go as far as say that he looked handsome."  
  
Another grunt from Lorelai.  
  
Rory stifled her laughter. Before she could go on teasing her mother, Lorelai spoke.   
  
"What time are Tristan and Natalie coming over tomorrow?"  
  
At the mention of his name, warmth flooded her body. She leaned her head back and smiled at the thought of seeing him. "Hmmm… I don't know. Probably around noon- just in time for the carnival to start."  
  
"Oh, it's gonna be so much fun… although I'm still disappointed that there won't be a carousel."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
Lorelai made a face. "I don't think anyone wants to see a repeat of Kirk puking his guts out."  
  
"Motion-sickness is not fun."  
  
"Neither is the fear of heights," Lorelai shuddered. "I still have nightmares of Kirk's shrill screaming when he was stuck up in that ferris wheel during the Spring Carnival."  
  
Heights reminded Rory of the Empire State Building; the amazing view, the cool air, the heated kisses and-  
  
"Why do you have that stupid smile on your smile?"   
  
Rory's eyes snapped open. "What stupid smile? I was not smiling."  
  
"Oh yes, you were," Lorelai insisted, her eyes narrowing. "I know it when you smile and I know that stupid smile. That was the smile you got when you first ki-"  
  
"There is no stupid smile. I've never smiled that stupid smile."  
  
"Tell me what happened, or else I'll pry it out of Tristan," Lorelai threatened.  
  
Rory sighed, but inwardly she was quite willing to share the information with her mother.   
  
Oh yes, things between them couldn't be better.   
  


* * * * *   


  
"Merry Christmas."  
  
She returned his smile and took a moment to take him in. His halo of blonde hair shimmered with snow flakes and his cheeks were ruddy from the cold. But the warmth in his eyes as he looked at her made her toes curl.   
  
"Oh God, would you two please stop making googly eyes at each other?" came the pleading voice. Natalie pushed past Tristan until she was face to face with Rory. "Hey Rory," she smiled, surprising Rory with a hug. "Merry Christmas."  
  
Rory looked at Tristan over Natalie's shoulder, smiling as he rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Good to see you looking better, Nat. Merry Christmas to you too." Pulling away, she opened the door wider, "Come on in."  
  
Natalie took off her coat and made her way deeper into the house, leaving the two adults alone in the entryway.   
  
"Hey," Rory smiled shyly. There was a long pause and then she finally leaned forward, brushing her lips over his. "It's good to see you."  
  
He wound his arm around her waist, pulled her close and gave her a lingering kiss. "It's good to see you too."  
  
The loud cough made them jump apart. Turning around, Rory saw Lorelai standing a few feet away, a mischievous look in her eyes.   
  
"Hi Lorelai," Tristan smiled. "Merry Christmas."  
  
"I think there's no need for all the mistletoe. I should just take them down," Lorelai joked.   
  
Tristan wrapped an arm around Rory and winked. "I'll take any reason to steal a kiss."  
  
"You'll get a kiss," Rory offered, "if you brought me a present. Unfortunately, I don't see any packages with you. Pity."  
  
She started to walk away but he didn't let up his hold. "Don't worry, they're in the car."   
  
He felt her smile against his lips and faintly, he heard Nat say despairingly, "They're at it _again_!"  
  
Then he felt Rory's hand move into his hair, pulling him closer and nothing else mattered except the exquisite feel of her lips on his.  
  


* * * * *  


  
"So," Lorelai said, rubbing her hands gleefully, "what should we do first?"  
  
"Is that a _clown_?" Natalie asked, her voice a mixture of excitement and disbelief.  
  
Lorelai let out a triumphant laugh. "I knew he'd give in!" Then, taking Natalie's hand, she led them to the clown in the gaudy and glaringly bright clothes.   
  
Tristan turned to Rory. "Why is there a clown? And why was Lorelai so happy to see a clown?"  
  
Rory swung their linked hands and grinned up at him as they slowly made their way through the crowd. "That's no ordinary clown. That's our favourite clown."  
  
"Should I be concerned that you actually have a favourite clown?"  
  
She ignored him. "Mom's been trying to get Taylor to have him in the carnival for a while now, but he refused to give in."  
  
When they finally caught up with Lorelai and Natalie, the duo had bright red noses stuck on their faces.   
  
"Do you want one?" Lorelai offered one nose to Tristan.   
  
He was about to turn her down when he saw that Rory already had hers on. And from the expression in her eyes, she was daring him to put it on.   
  
He sighed in surrender but he was smiling as he joined in the madness.  
  


* * * * *  


  
"Oh God, my ears are ringing," Tristan moaned, burying his head against her neck as another round of fa-la-la-las rang through the air.  
  
Rory laughed and ran a gloved hand down his back. "Aww, poor baby, I think that's the only song on their set list."  
  
He pulled back, his lips set in a playful pout. "You said this would be fun."  
  
"There was supposed to be a carousel!" Rory said defensively.   
  
"So?"  
  
"A carousel would have been fun."  
  
Tristan laughed at her reasoning. "Let's go get some cotton candy."   
  
As he pulled her through the crowd, Rory realized that the cotton candy stand was on the other side of the field. "You just wanna get away from the choir."  
  
He turned back with a grin, "Damn right."  
  


* * * * *  


  
Rubbing his cold hands together, Tristan sat back and enjoyed the bustle and noise emanating from the crowd not too far away from where they were sitting. It was nearly four in the afternoon, but the fun and laughter had not abated at all. If anything, it looked as if the festivities were poised to last through the evening and late into the night. He brought his hands to his mouth, blowing onto them and cursing the fact that he had forgotten to bring his gloves.   
  
Moments later, he felt a pair of gloved hands over his, providing not only the warmth he needed but sending tingles through his body. Tilting his head to look at Rory, he gave her a slow smile and leaned forward to place a light kiss on her nose.   
  
"Rory, thanks for inviting us." He looked out into the crowd, smiling as he spotted Natalie laughing raucously with Lorelai. "Nat's really enjoying herself. _I'm_ enjoying myself. I can't imagine what it would have been like had we spent Christmas at home."  
  
She absently stroked his fingers as she spoke. "There's something magical about this Christmas."  
  
"Are you sure it's not just the snow?" he teased, having heard all about the Gilmore theory about snow and magical things happening.  
  
A smile lit up her face. "It is the snow. But it's also my mom. I finally feel that everything is right again." Her eyes softened and she bit her lip, as though unsure. "And then, there's you."  
  
He couldn't hide his surprise. "Me?"  
  
"Yeah, you." Her grip on his hands tightened imperceptibly. "This… thing between us…" She took a deep breath before admitting, "It means a lot to me."  
  
"It means a lot to me too," he replied, his voice barely a whisper.  
  
The tension in her shoulders ebbed away at his words. "I know that when we first started going out, it was… a matter of convenience." Tristan smiled at her phrasing and gave her hands a reassuring squeeze. "But now- I was just thinking that maybe-"  
  
"Rory!"  
  
Tristan inwardly cursed at the interruption as Rory got up to greet the woman who had called out to her. He had an idea of what Rory had been trying to say and he wanted very much to hear it but the untimely intrusion had broken the atmosphere surrounding them.   
  
Breaking away from his thoughts, he looked up and saw that Rory was standing a few feet away, gesturing to him.   
  
"Tristan, I want you to meet Lane and her fiancé, Jess."  
  


* * * * *   


  
"That's a nice gift he gave you," Lorelai remarked.   
  
Rory tore her eyes from the charcoal drawing of her likeness and smiled. "It's a wonderful gift. I never knew that he's such a talented artist."  
  
Lorelai curled up in the armchair and rubbed her tired feet. "I was looking at it earlier when you were outside saying goodbye."  
  
Rory threw a cushion when she saw the kissy faces her mother was making. The attack was adroitly deflected with upraised arms.   
  
"And," Lorelai went on, "I noticed something interesting. Take a good look at the bottom right hand corner."  
  
Rory examined the area and noticed what Lorelai was referring to. "He drew this before we started dating, before we even met at Madeline's," she exclaimed.   
  
Lorelai winked. "Interesting information, isn't it?"  
  
Rory didn't quite want to think about the meaning behind it.  
  


* * * * *  


  
"Why are we waiting out here?" Rory asked, pulling her coat closer to her.  
  
"I have three words for you: surprise Christmas gift."  
  
Rory's voice took on a whiny edge. "Can't we wait inside?"  
  
Lorelai slanted a knowing look at her. "You just want to see your Tristan."  
  
"Well, I don't want to be an icicle when I do see him."  
  
"Don't worry," Lorelai grinned. "I'm sure he'll think of ways to warm you up."  
  
"Mom!"  
  
The sound of an approaching car and its blinding headlights averted their attention.  
  
"A little late, but then again, this is Chris," Lorelai said as the car door swung open.  
  
Rory's eyes widened. "Dad? Dad's here?"   
  
Lorelai couldn't help smiling as she watched Rory run into her father's arms.  
  


* * * * *  


  
"You're playing photographer tonight?"   
  
Rory clicked the shutter before turning to the woman beside her. "Yup." She stroked her new camera in appreciation. "Grandpa gave it to me so I figured that I should put it to good use."  
  
Madeline grinned. "I still think you should have become a photographer. I remember those prints you took at Tahoe. They were beautiful."  
  
Rory shrugged away the compliment. "Writing's still my first love. Where's your little one?"  
  
"Emmy fell asleep and Brad put her in an empty room upstairs." Madeline's forehead creased in concern. "I should go check on her."  
  
"I'll go with you."  
  
Upstairs, the sound of revelry downstairs was muted and faraway. They padded silently down the long hallway, comfortable in the way that two friends who have known each other a long time are.   
  
It turned out that Brad had left Emmy in Rory's old bedroom. A stream of dim light filtered out the open door and when Madeline peeked in, she put a finger up to her lips and smiled as she pointed to something inside the room.  
  
Rory scrunched her nose in confusion and moved closer so that she could see. The sight that greeted her made her heart clench.   
  
The room was sufficiently lit by a bedside table and pillows were placed along the perimeter of the bed to prevent Emmy from falling down. But the little girl was nowhere in the mass of sheets and pillows. Instead, she was enfolded in Tristan's arms and her little giggles were interspersed with Tristan's somewhat off-key singing.   
  
The temptation was too strong; Rory lifted up her camera and finding the perfect shot, she hit the shutter. The resulting flash halted Tristan in his fifth rendition of Puff the Magic Dragon.  
  
"Sorry," she said sheepishly.   
  
Madeline brushed past her and went to take her child from Tristan. Smiling up at him, she asked, "How long has she been awake?"   
  
Tristan smoothed down his faintly wrinkled shirt and shrugged. "I was coming out of the bathroom when I heard her crying. So I came in." His lips curled into a smile. "She stopped crying when I picked her up. She likes me."  
  
"Even little girls aren't immune to your charm," Madeline laughed.  
  
Rory groaned loudly. "Oh please don't get him started!"  
  
Tristan chuckled as Emmy grabbed his finger when he held it out in front of her and proceeded to bite it. "My charms are considerable, _Mary_. Even you eventually gave in."  
  
"Yeah," Rory rolled her eyes. "After_ ten_ years."  
  
"You're a tough nut to crack." Tristan winked.   
  
Rory waved her hand dismissively. "I merely pitied you."  
  
"You guys should have gotten together years ago," Madeline's said casually, wiping off the drool on Emmy's chin with a towel. She looked up and nearly laughed when she saw the frozen expressions on their faces. Deciding to defuse her loaded  
statement, she said, "C'mon, let's go downstairs. We should get back to the party."  
  
Still silent, Tristan & Rory followed her lead.  
  


* * * * *  


  
"You've been smiling all night."  
  
Rory grabbed a flute of champagne from a passing waiter. "Is there something wrong with that?"  
  
"No, no," Tristan hurriedly said. "It's just that I'd hate to see that smile vanish when I tell you that vultures are coming our way."  
  
She gave him a baffled look. "Vultures?"  
  
"My parents," he clarified.  
  
Rory gasped and tried not to smile at the overly innocent look in his eyes. "Tristan, be nice."  
  
He didn't respond but she did notice how he pasted on a too bright smile once his parents were upon them. She lightly nudged him and she inwardly smiled when she felt him relax beside her.   
  
"Hello Rory dear," Lauren DuGrey cooed, "It's good to see you again." Her eyes flitted from Tristan to Rory, making the unspoken meaning of her words clear; she was exceedingly pleased to see Rory with Tristan. The satisfied look that his father gave echoed the sentiment. Tristan merely inclined his head in acknowledgment, not trusting himself to say anything civil.   
  
The arm that she wrapped around his waist was not so much a show of affection for his parents but rather, her way of wanting to calm Tristan down before he said anything disparaging to his parents. She returned Lauren's smile and asked, "How was your Christmas?" She felt him stiffen beside her and cursed herself for bringing up that topic, knowing how angry Tristan still was about his parents' sudden trip of Hawaii.   
  
"Stephen and I went to Hawaii to escape the cold. We had a lovely time." The golden tan that they both had was testament to that.  
  
"We were surprised to come home to an empty house though," Stephen said, giving Tristan a pointed look. Tristan didn't even blink, but he appreciated the light squeeze that Rory gave. "We didn't know that Tristan and Natalie were spending Christmas with you."  
  
"I'm sorry, that's my fault. I extended the invitation late. My mother and I were glad to have the company."  
  
Tristan silently applauded Rory's diplomatic skills.   
  
"It's only fair that we reciprocate. You must dine with us before you return to New York. Maybe tomorrow evening?" Lauren suggested.   
  
"How about the day after? I promised to spend time with my parents tomorrow," Rory answered, ignoring the pinch that Tristan warningly administered on her arm.   
  
"Wonderful, we'll see you then." Lauren smiled. "Now, I really should find your grandmother and congratulate her on this superb party. The pate is divine."   
  
They suffered through another few minutes of Lauren's inane chatter before Stephen shepherded her away.   
  
"Why in heaven's name did you accept the invitation?" Tristan whispered harshly once his meddlesome parents were gone. "Haven't you already suffered through the excruciating pain of a DuGrey dinner? Or are you trying to attain sainthood?" Growling, he ran a hand through his hair, his face schooled into an expression of frustration.   
  
"Tristan-"  
  
"Here I am, trying to will them out of my life and there you are, trying to mend the broken bridges."  
  
"_Tristan_-"  
  
He gritted his teeth, telling himself to keep his voice down. "Damnit, Rory. Let it be." He spoke in a low, hard voice. "Leave the mess that is my family alone. It is what it is. It can't be fixed."   
  
Rory swallowed the lump that was lodged in her throat as she watched him walk away from her.   
  


* * * * *   


  
He wasn't really sure how long he had been standing out in the garden. His impeccable Armani suit was little shield from the cold but he barely felt the bite of the chill. Frustration was running hotly through his blood but it was slowly being cooled by regret over his callous words to Rory. It was truly no fault of hers- how could he blame her for her good intentions?- and he unfairly taken out his resentment on her.   
  
For a second, the noise from the house filtered out when the doors open and the noise receded again once the door was closed. He heard the click of heels on the floor and then a warm hand landed on his shoulder.  
  
"I'm sorry, Tristan."  
  
He turned and caught her hand in his, bringing it up to his lips for a soft kiss. "I shouldn't have snapped at you."  
  
"It's just that my life is falling into place again," Rory explained, her eyes bright as she thought of her dad being at the party. "And I wanted it to be the same for you too."  
  
"I know, but you're trying to fit a piece in a puzzle that's already complete."  
  
Her eyes searched his. "Why won't you even try?"  
  
"I've tried all my life, Rory," he sighed. "And now, I've accepted it."  
  
"You shouldn't have to."  
  
His heart softened at the compassion he heard in her voice. "It doesn't matter."  
  
Rory tried to smile. She moved forward and enclosed him in her arms, offering whatever comfort she could. As she held him closely and felt the thud of his heartbeat against her, she tried not to analyse the feelings that swamped her heart.  
  


* * * * *   


  
"I've been meaning to tell you something." She tightened her arms around his neck and led him guide her through the dance. "Thank you so much for the drawing. I love it."  
  
He smiled and although they were in a room full of people, he made her feel like they were the only ones who mattered.   
  
"You never told me that you could draw."  
  
"It's one of my little known talents," was his modest answer.  
  
Her lips quirked and she leaned up to whisper salaciously, "So, what other… _talents_ do you have?"  
  
Tristan chuckled. "I'll make sure you'll have a chance to find out."  
  
"Okay, children," came Lorelai's voice from behind Rory. "Break it up. It's time for our getaway."  
  
Rory was still grinning and she let out a squeal when he suddenly dipped her.   
  
Lorelai's gaze travelled back and forth between them before she forcibly separated them by nudging her way between their bodies. "This is me breaking the bubble you both live in."  
  
Rory shook her head. "You were saying something about a getaway?"  
  
"As usual, your beloved grandmother has made it her mission in life to make _my_ life as difficult and miserable as possible." She crossed her arms. "So, we're leaving. Our escape vehicle is waiting outside."  
  
"What happened?" Rory asked.  
  
"Let's just say that your father's presence put some ideas in Emily's head. No, wait." Bitterness coloured Lorelai's tone. "She's always had those damn ideas but they've suddenly come to life again."  
  
Tristan winced, knowing firsthand how pushy parents could be when they wanted to be. "C'mon, I'll walk you guys out."  
  
After making their stealthy escape, Lorelai left the two of them alone for a few minutes. "Don't take too long kids," she winked. "We need to go before Emily realizes we've left."  
  
Rory grinned, used to her mother's antics. Smiling apologetically at Tristan, she said, "It sucks that our night is cut short."  
  
"It's okay." He beamed a smile. "I'll see you tomorrow."  
  
"Angling for an invitation, Mr. DuGrey?" she teased.   
  
"Why?" His arm came around her waist. "Am I not welcome?"  
  
She leaned up and kissed him- a light brush of lips that made him want more. "Come by tomorrow and you'll find out."  
  


* * * * *  


  
Humming a Christmas song under her breath, Rory huddled deeper into the mass of blankets and gazed happily at the snow-white landscape. It was nearly one in the morning but she still felt wide awake. After returning from Harford, there had been another gift-opening celebration as they exchanged gifts with Chris. After throwing the remnants of wrapping paper at each other and dodging flying cushions and tinsel, the three of them had sat down and just talked. It had been nice. Really nice.   
  
She was the only one still awake and she welcomed the chance to just sit down and absorb what had happened the past two days. As she replayed her memories of her grandparents' party, she realized that she couldn't wait to develop the photographs she had taken, eager to see how the photo of Tristan and cute little Emily would turn out. Smiling to herself, she resolved to develop the film in her darkroom as soon as she got back to New York.   
  
She was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn't see the tall figure walking towards the house. She jolted with surprise when a smooth voice said, "Rory Gilmore. It's been a long time."  
  
Her jaw dropped as her eyes took in the figure standing on the steps of the porch. There was no mistaking the tall and lanky form or the bright grin or the smiling brown eyes. He looked tanner and leaner and his hair was no longer in that floppy do that he sported during his teenage years. But she surely recognized him. How could she forget her first boyfriend, her first love?  
  
"Dean?"  
  


* * * * *  


  
**A.N:** [insert evil cackling] Surprised? Heh. Let me just say that I've been looking forward to this moment of the story. Okay, three things: 1) I'm sorry if my characterization of Jess is off-base but… eh. I admit that I have no grasp of him, which is why I've gone 13 chapters without writing him in. Blah. I apologize. 2) The transitions may seem choppy and I apologize for that too. Alas, it was a necessity or else this story wouldn't be moving forward at all or it'd be way too long for my liking. 3) The word count has gone screwy. Just FYI.   
  
Okay, you can now hit that little button below and tell me how much I suck. ;-)  
  
  
  
  



	15. Nothing More

** A.N: ** Yes, it's been way too long; even I can't believe that it's taken this long. Oh well. To make up for it, this chapter is a little longer than usual (this is quite easily the longest one so far). Hope y'all enjoy it! (I'm not entirely sure about the Stars Hollow layout, so don't mind any errors in that. Ditto about the banking sector.)

Dedicated to the FF Trories, because y'all rock. Hee! 

*** * * * *  
It Had To Be You  
by inmyeyes  
15: Nothing More**

_ "Ex nihilo, nihil fit."  
  
Lat., "From nothing, nothing comes."  
  
_

The years seem to have melted away; she found that conversing with him was as easy as it had been when they were teenagers. She had been very surprised to see him, but it was a good kind of surprise, akin to her father's appearance at the party earlier. She hadn't seen Dean in years; the last time they met was over three years, coincidentally also during Christmas. They had bumped into each other at Doose's, both of them reaching for the last box of cocoa. They had laughed, did the obligatory small talk and then he let her have the box. 

Rory thought that talking to him again after all these years, after all the history between them, would be difficult or at the very least, strained. But it was nothing like that. She found that they had the camaraderie that exists between two people who know each other well. And they did know each other well… once upon a time. 

"Why are you out so late anyway?"

Dean frowned. "I needed to get away from my parents, actually." At her questioning look, he explained, "They've been hounding me all night about finding the right girl, settling down and having a family. I just couldn't take any more."

Rory winced, knowing precisely how that felt. 

He saw her expression and nodded. "Exactly."

"I thought only women were subjected to that kind of pressure from their well-meaning families."

"Well, times have changed," was his dry comment. "That, and the fact that Clara was recently engaged… and now the limelight is on me."

"She's engaged?"

"Her high school sweetheart finally proposed and they're having a spring wedding."

"Wow, Clara's getting married."

"_I _still can't believe it."

"So, I take it that there's no one special in your life, right now?" she asked. 

"No, no one," he replied. "I guess you could say that I'm married to my job." 

"I'm sure investment banking can wait while you're out searching for the love of your life," she teased. "I know that Credit Suisse isn't open 24 hours a day. Or are you somehow opposed to the women in Chicago?"

Dean laughed. "Not at all. I just haven't been… looking."

"I don't think anyone's really looking." The corners of her lips lifted in a smile as her thoughts wandered back to earlier that evening. "They just stumble upon it and hold on to it with all their might." Her eyes flickered to his face and caught him staring at her. "What?"

"So I take it that you've stumbled upon it?"

Her eyes widened in surprise. 

Laughing lightly, he said, "I know you, Rory Gilmore."

She returned his smile and answered his question. "I don't know, I'm not sure yet."

He kept his probing gaze on her. "How can you not be sure? You either feel it, or you don't."

"You know how I like to complicate things."

"Who's the lucky guy?"

"Actually, you know him." When his jaw dropped, she hurriedly said, "And no, it's not Jess. Jess is engaged to Lane."

Dean's jaw dropped further "Lane? _ Lane Kim_? And Jess?"

Rory laughed. "That seems to be the general reaction. And yes, it's true. They're crazy in love with each other."

"Some things certainly do change," he commented. 

"They certainly do," Rory agreed. "I'm kind of dating Tristan DuGrey."

"Tristan DuGrey," he sounded the name out, trying to place it. "Tristan Du- you mean the Tristan from Chilton?"

"The very same one," she confirmed. 

"Okay, am I in some weird alternate universe?"

"No, you're not," Rory laughed. "It's just that… things change, people change."

"And feelings change."

"Yes, they do."

"And I always did tell you that he had a thing for you." 

Rory rolled her eyes, making him laugh. "Oh, please."

There was a short bout of comfortable silence as both of them looked out at the blanket of snow covering the ground and the small snow flakes that slowly drifted down. 

"Rory… do you ever-" He broke off mid-sentence. "Never mind."

"Do I ever what?"

"Wonder. Do you ever wonder?"

"About?"

He heaved a sigh. "About us. Do you ever wonder about us, about what could have happened if things were different?"

She turned her body to face him fully, and examined him in the dim light, not really knowing how to answer the question.

"I'm sorry," he said, running a hand through his hair. "I shouldn't have asked."

"I used to," she answered. "But then I realized that there was nothing to regret about our relationship. We had some really wonderful memories, Dean, and those I treasure. There's no use wondering what could have been."

* * * * *

That night, she did wonder. 

But the object of her musings was Tristan, and what could have been with _him_ had things been different. What if she hadn't met Dean? What if she had somehow accepted Tristan's invitation to the dance? What if she hadn't run away from their kiss? What if they had gone to the PJ Harvey concert together? 

What if?

It was scary to her how different everything would have been had she just made one different decision. Choices, she told her herself, can change everything. And her choice about Tristan, now, could very well alter the course of her life. 

Rory was nothing else if not rational; so she did what she always did whenever she needed to make an important decision. Switching on her bedside table, she reached for her ever-present notebook and pen, sat up in bed and mulled. 

She made a pro-and-con list about her so-called relationship with Tristan, but matters of the heart couldn't be easily sorted into two distinct categories and so that list was of no help to her. 

The most pertinent question was- and she wrote this in large block letters on the page- 'How do I feel about Tristan?'

And that, she realized, was a most difficult question to answer. 

* * * * *

"What are you smiling about?" 

Natalie tried, unsuccessfully, to affect a suitably stoic expression. "Smiling? Me?"

Tristan put down the paper he was reading to glare at her from across the table. "No, my imaginary friend, Bob."

"Oooh, is he hot?"

Rolling his eyes, he picked up the paper again, determined to ignore his eccentric sister. He was busy reading about how some company was merging with this other company (he really wasn't paying that much attention) when a drumming sound filled the air. "Stop that."

The drumming went on, the staccato beats slowly driving him insane. "Stop what?"

He was not fooled by the innocent tone of her voice. Sighing, he put down the paper (again) and reached out to pull the fork out of Natalie's hand. "If I answer whatever inane question you're dying to ask me, will you then leave me alone, _in peace_?"

Her smile was bright, and unabashedly victorious. "Of course."

He sat back and waited expectantly. 

"Are you going to ask Rory to marry you?"

His jaw fell. He should have anticipated such an outrageous question from her. "_What_?"

She relished the shock quotient of her query and was happy to repeat it, "I said, are you-"

He held up his hand to stop her. "I heard what you said."

The guileless smile was back. "Good."

"Where the hell did you get such an idea?" 

She wiggled her brows, smiling smugly. "I'm a smart girl, I can see the signs."

"Well, your signs are pointing to the wrong direction," he answered. "And you, are poking your nose where it doesn't belong."

"All right then, I'll rephrase my question: are you _thinking _of marrying her?"

"I swear, this whole damn family is obsessed with Rory!" he groaned. "And why, may I ask, are you so eager to see me ensconced in wedded bliss?"

She shot him a measured look. "Oh, so now it's 'wedded bliss'? I remember you using the words 'trap' and 'eternal misery' used in conjunction with the word 'marriage' in the past."

"I'm sorry, I guess I should have laid the sarcasm on thicker."

Picking up the spoon lying nearby, she resumed her drumming and smiled brightly. "I'm still waiting for an answer," she sing-songed. 

"Natalie dear," he began, in a saccharine tone, "you'll be the first to know if I ever decide on entering into sacred matrimony."

"See," she said, getting up from her seat. "That's all you had to say." She grinned cheekily. "Well, I'm off to harass other unsuspecting members of this household. See you later!" 

Trying to suppress an amused smile, Tristan reached for a butter roll and aimed it at Natalie's head. His laughter burst through his stoic façade when she failed to react in time and got bonked on her forehead. 

"I guess I deserved that," was her semi-rueful comment. 

"Yes," he agreed. "You damn well did." 

Peace and quiet reigned again once Natalie left the kitchen. Instead of going back to reading the paper as he had planned, he found that his attention had been duly diverted by Natalie's audacious line of questioning. 

Marriage. He had never really thought of it- then again, which sane, freedom-loving male did? 

In reality, he was terrified of it. Watching his parents making a mockery of their vows made him determined to have a real marriage. Divorce may well be acceptable, but Tristan knew that if and when he devoted his life to someone, it would be for eternity. 

And while the notion of spending forever with one other person was terrifying, now that he thought about it, forever with _Rory _would be bearable. Oh all right, it would be more than just bearable; it would be pretty darn good. He had never before been able to visualize his future with the other women he had dated… but with Rory, his future was all he could see. 

Oh, he was in quite a hopeless state, he knew. And if he wasn't careful, he'd be in far too deep, too fast… free-falling into a love that he could never recover from if he crashed and burned. 

* * * * *

"Do you want me to just leave the pot here?" Luke asked, raising his brow as Rory asked for her fifth refill. 

"Yes, please," she answered, stifling another yawn. 

Hiding his concern behind a frown, he asked, "What are you doing up so early anyway? You do realize that it's only 8.30am, right?"

She merely gave him a bleary look, putting her elbow on the table and supporting her head with an open palm. "Hmmm… I couldn't sleep, and I'm supposed to meet someone here for breakfast."

"Tristan?"

The corners of her lips lifted in a wry smile. "The reason why I couldn't sleep, but not the person I'm meeting." Before Luke could pounce on the first-half of her answer, she went on. "I'm meeting Dean."

"Dean?"

If she were more awake, she would have relished the shocked expression on Luke's face. "Yes, Dean Forester. We went out during high school, remember him?"

"Of course, I remember that dolt. But aren't you with Tristan?"

A heavy groan left Rory's lips and she let her head fall until it hit the table, emitting a thud. Then she hit it again for good measure. "That's the million dollar question."

"So, you're _not_ with Tristan?"

She threw her hands up in frustration and when she spoke, her voice was sharp, "I don't know what's going on with Tristan."

Luke winced. "I'm sorry I asked."

"It's complicated," she said to his retreating back. 

"It always is." Luke's smile was wry. 

She gave a small smile in return. "Any advice?"

He almost laughed. "From me, the love guru?" Then his eyes turned serious. "Think of what he means to you… and how you'd feel if he wasn't there anymore."

"What if I don't want to think about him not being there?" was Rory's softly-spoken question. 

"Then I'd say that you already know what he means to you."

* * * * *

"So, maybe breakfast wasn't that great of an idea," said the voice, tinged with amusement. 

Rory slowly opened her eyes, rubbing them to clear her vision. Giving Dean a sheepish grin, she gestured to the empty seat across from her. "I didn't get much sleep last night."

He chucked. "It looks like you didn't get _any_ sleep."

"Thanks, you sure know how to make a girl feel good."

"What happened? Did thoughts of me keep you awake all night?" he teased.

"I may only be half-awake, but," she said warningly and picked up a fork lying on the table, "I'm armed and willing to inflict hurt."

Still grinning, he held his hands up in mock-surrender. "Would you accept a cup of coffee as a peace offering?" 

She raised a brow.

"Two cups?"

"You've got a deal."

* * * * *

"Nothing's changed at all," Dean remarked. "It's weird, but reassuring somehow."

Rory took a long sip of her second cup of coffee and kept her hands around the warm cup, letting its heat seep into her cold fingers. "Yeah, it _is_ reassuring." 

She let her eyes scan the town from their vantage point at the town square. The town still hadn't quite recovered from the Christmas festivities: twinkling lights were still strung around numerous trees, shorts lengths of tinsel in a variety of colors still happily fluttered in the wind and the giant pine tree was still holding court in the middle of the square. "It's nice to know that how matter how long I've been away, Stars Hollow will always be the same. It's my security blanket."

"The funny thing is kids from small towns usually walk away at the first chance they get and never look back." 

"I could never do that," she answered, shaking her head. "This town is as much a part of me as I am a part of it." She looked up at him and froze when she saw the way he was looking at her.

"_I _thought I would walk away and never look back."

She forced her discomfort away and smiled. "Well, you haven't. Looked back, that is. You're doing pretty well for yourself."

"I guess so," he shrugged negligently. "But, as cliché, as it sounds, I feel like something's missing."

She had a fair idea of what he was referring to, but playing dumb was a much more appealing option. "Hmm… something's missing?"

His voice was low when he admitted, "Sometimes, I wonder, Rory."

She continued her oblivious act. "Wonder what?"

"We were good together, weren't we?" 

A non-committal sound escaped his lips as she rested his gaze on anything and anyone rather than him. Her fingers convulsively clutched the paper cup in her hands. 

"And so, I wonder… where we would be right now had we not broken up."

She finally turned her gaze to him. "I think we'll still be exactly where we are right now," she said, bluntly. Before Dean could open his mouth to speak, she had plowed on. "I think time has left a rosy tint on your memories, Dean. We had our good times but we also had our fights." She crushed the cup in her grasp, and she scarcely noticed that she let it slowly flutter to the ground. "Whatever we had then, Dean, it definitely wouldn't have lasted forever."

Neither of them said anything for a long moment. Rory kept her eyes on her lap, relieved that she had spoken her mind but a little worried about her lack of tact. 

It was Dean who broke the stalemate. "I wanted it to." At her questioning look, he clarified, "To last forever. I did." His smile was rueful and slightly sheepish. "I knew that it wouldn't and I knew that I was lucky that we had lasted that long at all."

"Dean-"

"Remember that day, at Babette's, when you told me that you _were _interested in me?"

Her cheeks flushed at the memory and she laughed. "Oh gosh, yes."

He matched her smile. "You have no idea how ecstatic I was that night."

She grinned, he grinned… and the equilibrium between them was restored, all earlier awkwardness gone. 

"Do you know what I think?" 

His expression was half-teasing and half-serious so she didn't quite know what to expect from him.

"It really was a stroke of pure luck that I met you first."

"Why?" 

"Because I think, with the wonderful perspective that hindsight offers, that I wouldn't have had a chance with you otherwise. Not with Tristan or Jess around."

She didn't know what to say to that. 

"It's true; they're both better suited with you than I ever was." 

"Don't say that!" she protested.

He just gave a wry smile. "So, you and Tristan are now-"

Her eyes widened. "Please don't say that it's fated, destined… that we're meant to be, after all… or some other crap like that."

"You said it, not me."

Rory groaned, burying her face with her hands. "No such thing, no such thing." Looking up, she swatted his shoulder playfully as she demanded, "Take it back, take it back _now_."

He dodged her flaying hands, laughing gleefully. "I didn't say anything!"

"It's not anything like that," she objected.

Dean crossed his arms and leaned back against the back of the bench. He didn't say anything but he clearly looked unconvinced by her weak, and insubstantial, protest.

"It's…" she searched for the right words, "a delicate situation."

"What could possibly be so delicate about it?" he asked. "You obviously like him, or you wouldn't have agreed to go out with him. And he's _always_ had a thing for you. Always." A corner of his mouth quirked into a small smile. "I worried all the time that he would somehow be able to steal you away from me."

"That's ridiculous; back then, he was such a-"

"Jerk," he completed her sentence, grinning. "Yes, you've said so, many times. But, as they say, there's a thin line."

She leveled a challenging look at him, crossing her arms defiantly. "What exactly are you saying here, Mr. Forester?"

"I'm saying," he answered, a cheeky smile on his face, "that there _possibly_, _might have been _something there all along… and that finally, it has had the chance to bloom." 

"You are sorely mistaken," Rory said huffily.

His teasing smile never abated. "Just remember to invite me to the wedding. I'd want to congratulate that bastard for finally snaring you."

A handful of snow hitting his shoulder was all the answer Rory gave.

* * * * *

He pulled up his car in front of Doose's, ignoring the fact that Taylor had yelled at him just the other day for his illegal parking. He had no time to spare; he knew how fast the Stars Hollow grapevine could work and he wanted to surprise Rory before any word of his presence reached her ears. 

Quickly, he walked down the street until he got to the florist. For a few minutes, he stood in front of the colourful display of flowers before grabbing a handful of lilies. Moments later, he exited the florist with a large bouquet in his hand, and a large smile on his handsome face. 

He made an equally fast trek back to his car, hoping that Taylor wasn't there waiting to give him a lecture. Just as he opened his car door, a voice stopped him. 

"You're Tristan, right?" 

The question made him turn and he frantically tried to match a name to the face. "Yes, I am. And you're…"

"Kirk. I'm Kirk."

Ah yes, Kirk. Quirky Kirk was the nickname he had coined for the man after all the amusing Stars Hollow stories Rory had related to him. 

"If you're looking for Rory," Kirk went on, "she's right over there." 

Tristan's eyes followed the direction that Kirk pointed to and it took him a full three seconds to register what he was seeing. His grip on the flower stems tightened for a moment before he consciously forced himself to relax. 

Striving to sound insouciant, he sought confirmation of what he already knew was true. "Who's that with her?"

"Oh, that's just Dean," was the offhand answer. "They used to go out during high school. They were a lovely couple."

His smile was tight. "I'm sure." Oh, he knew damn well what a_ lovely_ couple they made. "Thanks, Kirk."

"Always glad to help."

His jaw clenched, Tristan slowly got into his car and haphazardly threw the bouquet into the backseat. He kept his attention on the couple seated just across the road and with every smile, every touch and every word that passed between them, he felt the hollow ache in his chest spread. 

When he finally couldn't take any more, he tore his eyes away. Taking a deep breath, he loosened his death grip on the steering wheel and swallowed the lump of pain that had lodged itself in his throat. He leaned back to grab the flowers and without hesitation, threw it out his window and into a rubbish bin nearby. 

He drove away without looking back. 

* * * * *

"So, it seems like things are going well with Tristan and you," Chris remarked, as they walked down the snowy streets back to the Gilmore house after having lunch together at Al's. 

"Don't jinx it, Dad."

Chris laughed, swinging his arm over Rory's shoulders and hugging her to his side. "I wouldn't dream of it."

She returned the embrace, twining an arm around his waist. "I'm glad you're here."

"And I'm glad that you're glad."

"You're getting awfully cheesy in your old age," Rory teased. 

"Old age?" Chris scoffed. "I, and your mother too I'm sure, resent that remark. We're hardly senior citizens."

"Well, at least you're the most fashion-savvy parents around." She rolled her eyes. "Although, I'm half-tempted to throw out her sparkly t-shirts."

"I'll like to see you try," came the challenging voice from behind of them. 

Rory jumped in surprise and affected an innocent look. "Mom!" She wasn't sure who exactly threw the first snowball but it took only seconds for flying snowballs, laugher and happy squealing to fill the air. 

* * * * *

She felt like a trespasser. But she had been here before, and besides, when she had called Tristan and asked to meet him, he told her to wait for him at the gazebo. 

It was getting colder as twilight descended, but Rory was too nervous to notice. She had agonized all afternoon, thinking about Tristan… and she finally came to a conclusion that scared her a little bit. It was a somewhat frightening thought for someone like her who had avoided any kind of intimate relationship with a man for a long while. But with the maturity that had come as she grew older, self-awareness had followed. Rory wasn't in the habit of lying to herself- at least, not anymore, not recently. And for once, she wanted to grasp her fate in her hands and follow her heart's desire.

As the hours passed and there was still no sign of Tristan, she decided that maybe he had changed his mind about coming to Stars Hollow. Or maybe, something important had cropped up. She was tempted to leave matters be until the next day, when she was due to have dinner with the DuGreys. But she didn't want to wait; she wanted to tell him as soon as she could. 

And so, she came to be at the gazebo, waiting for Tristan to appear. Her heart was pounding and her leg was bouncing up and down, trying to divest of her restless energy. Mentally, she was running through her little speech she had planned during the drive to Hartford. She knew she often had the annoying problem of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, or blundering so badly that whatever she wanted to say would be misunderstood. She was determined to get things right this time; it mattered too much for her to screw up.

She perked up when she saw an approaching figure. But the figure was too short to be Tristan, and Tristan certainly didn't gleam from the shine of diamond jewelry. She forced an amicable smile on her face when the woman was close enough to recognize.

"Hello, Mrs. DuGrey," she called out. 

The elegantly-dressed woman didn't break her stride as a pleased smile curved her lips. "Rory, darling, how wonderful to see you." When she reached the gazebo, she leaned forward to place light, airy kisses Rory's cheeks. "What are you doing out here?"

Her cheeks, which were already rosy from the chill, flushed further. "I'm meeting Tristan here."

Lauren DuGrey gave a light gasp, followed by a wink. "Oh, dear. What awful timing, I have. I should leave then."

Inbred courtesy, and the desire to know more about the woman who had mothered Tristan, caused Rory to place a hand on her arm, stopping her retreat. "No, it's all right. You can keep me company."

She smiled in return and sat down beside Rory. "I'll have a word with Tristan about keeping a lady waiting. It is most impolite of him."

"No," Rory shook her head. "Actually, I'm early."

Lauren's smile broadened. "I'm so glad the two of you are dating. You've been a wonderful influence on him." She looked away, and when she spoke again, her voice had a hushed quality to it. "I've never seen him as happy as he is when he's with you."

Rory felt inordinately pleased with that piece of information. And it bolstered her courage, convincing her that she was taking the right step with Tristan. 

The older woman turned back to her, her eyes searching Rory's. When she spoke, her tone was grave, "You do care about him, don't you?" 

A smile flitted about her lips as she confessed, "Against my wishes, I find that I do."

"Tristan can be difficult to love." Lauren gave a commiserating smile. 

Rory tilted her head sideways, a mildly surprised look on her face. 

"I know my son well, even though it may not appear so." A far-away look came into her eyes, and Rory could easily sense the melancholia in her. "I fell in love with a man who was just like him."

"What happened?"

"Some men fall in love quickly, and fall _out _of love just as easily. But others, like the DuGrey men, fall in love only once, and when they do, it lasts a lifetime. But the moment you let them down, or give them the slightest reason, they'll retreat, they'll draw back and you'll have to fight for them before they completely shut you out. And I…" she drew a deep, shaky breath, "I don't think I fought hard enough."

"I'm sorry," Rory said, softly, understanding dawning in her eyes. 

There was a moment of shared silence. Then the perfectly put-together Mrs. DuGrey was back, making it almost seem like the past few minutes hadn't occurred. She waved her hand dismissively, a short laugh forced through her lips in an attempt to dispel the cheerless mood. "What's past is past." 

Her eyes traveled to the large expanse of garden in front of them, and she stood up as she saw Tristan approaching. "Well then, Tristan is finally here." She patted Rory's arm. "I shall leave the two of you alone."

Rory watched her walk away, calling out only after she had descended the gazebo steps. "It was nice talking to you, Mrs. DuGrey."

"Yes, it was," she smiled. 

Rory couldn't hear the words that were exchanged between Tristan and his mother, but the creases on his forehead and the tense set of his shoulders told her all she needed to know. She let out a quiet sigh. 

Tristan's vexed expression was still evident as he stomped up the steps. Rory didn't let herself be deterred by it. 

"Hi," she said simply. She leaned forward to give him a hug, hoping to chase away the gloom surrounding him. 

His body was stiff, not responding to her save for an arm that had quickly squeezed her to him before falling back to his side. He caught sight of the bewilderment in her eyes and steeled himself against reacting to it. "Hi."

She was perplexed by his detachment from her but chalked it up to him having a bad day. "I thought that you were coming to Stars Hollow; I was waiting for you to show up."

_ Waiting for him to show up? _The sight of her cozily sidling up to Dan flashed through his mind. The tight line around his mouth deepened. Pocketing his hands, he gave a negligent shrug. "Sorry." 

"You missed out on a killer snowball fight," she said, trying to tease a smile out of him.

He ignored her words and went straight to the reason for their meeting; he didn't want this to be any longer than it had to be. "So, what did you want to speak to me about?" he asked, although he had his own suspicions. 

Clasping her hands together, she looked at anywhere but him. The moment of truth had arrived and all the nervousness she had been trying to suppress flooded her senses. "Well," she began, still unable to look him in the eye, "I've been thinking. About us. And I realized-"

He saw her fidgeting, saw how uncomfortable she was… so, from the kindness of his heart, he put her out of her misery. What a _noble _soul you are, his conscience sarcastically commented. "I think we should end this charade."

Rory's eyes swung to him, wide with surprise and a touch of gladness and relief. "I think so too, Tristan. We've-"

Even though he had prepared himself for this eventuality, it still hurt. It hurt so damn much- too damn much. The vice around his heart grew taut at her words, but his voice was deliberately casual. "Yes, we'll end it. Tomorrow."

A look of utter confusion filled her eyes. "Tomorrow? Why tomorrow? I need to tell you, _now_. I-"

"And it has to be big. Irreconcilable," he went on as though Rory hadn't spoken, knowing he wouldn't be able to bear any platitudes coming from her. "A fight; we'll stage a terrible fight. You caught me cheating on you; that's unforgivable."

Confusion turned into panic. Oh God, this was going so completely wrong! An uneasy feeling settled in her stomach. "_What_? Tristan, what are you-"

"I made you do this, so it's only fitting that I get dumped." He nodded decisively, mentally patting himself on the back for keeping his composure when all he wanted was scream out his frustration and lick his wounds. "We'll do it tomorrow, just before dinner. All you have to do is play along. Just play along, Rory. I'll do all the talking."

Rory was so dazed and frozen with pain that all she could do was watch him walk away. 

* * * * *

Luke lugged the two bagfuls of trash out of the diner, sighing with relief that the day had ended. All he wanted to do now but finish cleaning up and then seek oblivion in his comfortable, warm bed. 

As he trudged back to the door, he saw the huddled figure on the bench just across the road. Something about that blue jacket was familiar… Squinting into the dark, he stood there for a few seconds, trying to figure out who it was. 

_ Rory_!

Quickly crossing the now-empty street, he made his way to her. "Hey kid, what are you doing out here?"

A sniffle was all he got. "I didn't feel like going home," was her soft answer. 

When Rory raised her face and revealed her red-rimmed, puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks, Luke was immediately concerned. Catching her right arm, he gently hauled her to her feet and shepherded her in the direction of the diner. "You look like you can use some coffee and food."

Minutes later, a cup of steaming coffee and a plate of burger and fries in front of her, Rory offered Luke a weak smile of thanks. "Thank you."

Seating himself across from her, he examined her face as though looking for some sign of what had happened. "Do you want me to call your mother?"

She shook her head vigorously. "No, no, it's okay. I'll be fine."

"You don't look fine," he said, accusingly. 

"It's been a wretched day, to say the least," she sighed. 

A pause, then came his cautious offer, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not right now." She didn't think she could, not when the wounds were still so raw. 

So they just sat there; Luke, a little uncomfortable but wanting to be there, and Rory, seeking refuge from the cold and the pieces of her heart that lay broken at her feet. 

* * * * *

The door swung open and the greeting that reached her was a terse "Are you all right?"

Rory thought that she was all cried out; when she finally got home after reassuring Luke that she would be fine, she burst out crying in the face of her parents' worry. She had thrown herself into Chris' arms, while Lorelai looked on helplessly and vowed to break all the bones in Tristan's body for making her baby cry. Sleep only came in the early hours of the morning, as exhaustion took its toll. 

But now, she felt tears welling up in her eyes. As Paris ushered her into her spacious apartment in the heart of Hartford, Rory angrily swiped at her cheeks. Damnit, she was feeling anything but all right.

Paris sat her down on the couch, went into her kitchen and appeared a few minutes later with some coffee, liberally laced with brandy. 

"I don't think getting me sloshed is a good idea," Rory joked, trying to smile.

Paris arched her brow. "I think you're underestimating the healing effects of alcohol."

Rory slouched against the soft cushions. "Oblivion sounds good right about now, actually."

Paris took in her friend's unkempt appearance; the fisherman hat that covered half her face, hiding her splotchy complexion; her messy ponytail; the well-worn jeans and oversized sweater. 

"Please tell me that you brought a change of clothes," she pleaded. Her years living with a socially-conscious mother had drilled into her the importance of looking put together all the time. "Lauren DuGrey will have a fit if you go to dinner wearing that."

"They're in the car." Rory said dully, "I might as well look smashing while we're breaking up, right?"

Paris sipped her coffee. "Well, technically, you two weren't really together… so, you can't really be breaking up."

"Thanks for your wonderful support."

Paris sighed heavily. "What do you want me to say, Rory?"

"Well, at least you haven't said 'I told you so'." At Paris' questioning look, Rory clarified, "Lane predicted that it would end badly."

"You and Tristan have been embroiled in this little dance since high school," she remarked. "I honestly thought that was it, the end of it all."

"I can't let him do this!"

"Tristan can be very stubborn when he wants to be; I think you know that too."

"So, I should just let him 'break up' with me?"

Paris lifted her shoulder in a half-shrug. "You know what they say: if you love someone, set them free."

Rory waved her hand about. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. And if they come back, it's meant to be." She frowned. "A whole lot of bullshit that is."

"Look, you want my advice?" At Rory's weary nod, she continued, "Tristan can be stupid, but he isn't that stupid. Sooner or later, he'll come to his senses and he'll realize what he had with you."

"What if he doesn't?"

"That's a chance you have to take." 

"I should tell him," she sighed.

"That you care for him? Not the best time, Rory."

"When is it ever the best time? There never is such a thing as the best time!"

"For whatever reason only he knows, Tristan is determined to do this," Paris said. "Telling him now won't help; he won't believe you."

Rory's smile was watery. "I don't want to lose him, Paris."

"I know." Paris jumped up from her seat, smiling brightly in hopes to injecting some cheer. "Why do you say to _An Affair To Remember_ anda pint of Ben & Jerry's?"

"I'd say that I'm surprised since you have a hearty dislike for sappy movies and that I hope you have Chunky Monkey." 

"I can sit through a romantic move if I want to," Paris protested. "And yes, I do have Chunky Monkey."

Rory smiled- her first genuine smile since last evening. "And I'd say thanks for being such a great friend."

* * * * *

His eyes never left the grandfather clock standing at the far end of the living room, although he wished that he could just go back in time and had never gone to Stars Hollow. Or at least, that he could freeze time so that he wouldn't have to go through with this self-inflicted torture. Leaning back in the armchair in an indolent matter, he took a sip of wine, giving away none of the turmoil that had been brewing inside of him. 

"Sit up straight, Tristan," his mother admonished lightly. 

He spared her a glance but didn't respond in any way. 

"Is something amiss?"

Of all the times she had to be perceptive, she had to choose this exact moment. "No mother," he said, as politely as he could, "everything is just wonderful."

Lauren DuGrey gave her son a long look but didn't say anything; instead she lifted her glass of white wine to her lips. 

At 6.31, the doorbell chimed. Instinctively, he knew it was her. The slight stiffening of his body was the only outward sign of his strain. Inwardly, he readied himself, letting a shield of indifference pass over his emotions.

His armor suffered a chink when she walked into the room and he noticed her wan expression and the sadness lurking in her gaze. In greeting, he walked towards her, catching her hand in his and lightly kissing her soft lips. The jolt of awareness that came with that small contact left another crack in his shield. 

He hardly registered the small talk between his parents and Rory; his attention was solely on the lovely woman who was sitting close to him. Not for the first time, he wished that she felt even a shred of what he felt for her. But no, she would never love him… not when she could have Dean, or any other man who would be much better for her than he ever would be. 

He wasn't worthy of her; he hadn't been when they were teenagers, and that still hadn't changed 10 years down the road. He just wasn't the one for her, however convinced he was that _she _was the one for him. 

Finally, after what seemed like an agonizing half hour, dinner was served. As the elder DuGreys made their way to the dining room, he laid a restraining hand on her arm. 

Rory swallowed hard, feeling her hands get clammy. "So, I don't even get to eat before I run out of here, crying?" she kidded, once the room had emptied. Her tone at odds with the despairing look in her eyes. Before he could reply, she spoke again. "Curtain's up. Act I." 

Rory took a few steps away from him, not able to withstand being so near him while they carried out this farce. Raising her voice and injecting a note of pain and outrage that wasn't quite feigned, she exclaimed, "How can you do this, Tristan?"

"What did I do wrong?" he demanded, in an equally loud and angry voice, knowing that their voices would carry to the other room and-more importantly- to his parents. 

"What did you do wrong?" she repeated in an incredulous manner. Sticking to the 'plan' he had concocted, she accused, "I saw you with that- that _woman_."

"I've told you countless times- she's just a friend."

"Oh, and you go around kissing and groping your female friends in public?" Rory retorted. She should get an Oscar for this performance, she thought dimly. 

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't play the fool, Tristan. You know perfectly well what I'm talking about."

Tristan didn't answer but he gave a small smile and a thumbs up. 

"I gave you my heart, Tristan… and you just trampled on it." 

He faltered, forgetting his part in the script. The broken sound of her voice was almost his undoing. 

"How could you, Tristan?" 

He couldn't take it anymore. Making a shooing motion, he signaled that it was time for her to leave. 

Rory stood still for a moment, unable to believe that this was really happening. Gathering her courage to leave, she said, "Goodbye, Tristan." Speaking in a louder voice for the benefit of his parents, she spat out bitterly, "_Good riddance_, Tristan DuGrey."

Tristan clenched his fists, forcing himself to stand there and not go after her. A few seconds later, the front door slammed… and then his parents came back into the living room, disapproving looks on their faces. 

He walked past them, head held high, face devoid of expression, pretending that the last five minutes or so hadn't affected him at all. 

"Tristan…"

Ignoring his mother's beseeching call, he kept on walking, almost bumping into Natalie who had been watching the proceedings from her perch at the top of the stairs. 

When he was safe in the sanctuary of his room, he bolted the door, leaned heavily against it and let out a deep, tormented breath. He slowly slid down until he was sitting on the carpeted floor. Burying his head in his arms, he just let the silence and darkness wash over him. The numb feeling he had first gotten when he saw Rory and Dean together returned, this time ten times stronger. 

He sat there, unmoving, for the rest of the night. 

* * * * *


End file.
